


Tumblr prompt fills

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bondlock, F/F, F/M, Hurt Alec Trevelyan, Hurt James Bond, Hurt Q, Jealous Alec Trevelyan, Jealous James Bond, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Alec Trevelyan, Protective James Bond, Protective Q, Sick Q, Vengeful Q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:39:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 151,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filled prompts that help me get over writer's block.<br/>19. Even the Quartermaster gets downtime after missions, especially if he is hurt. James follows because he knows Q is hurt and he can't seem to keep away from him.<br/>18. James is a teacher and Q his student.<br/>17. The new M is not the right one and Q overworks himself in order to protect James and Alec.<br/>16. Everyone in Q's department decided that acting like a stereotypical bully is the right thing to do after M's death. But James find him crying.<br/>15. Q is a civilian, Bond is not. Q is curious about his lover's job.<br/>14. Q is going on a mission in which he needs someone to pose as his husband. James and Alec argue with each other over which one of them would be best suited and then change the rules a bit.<br/>13. 007 and the Quartermaster have no problem with innuendos while everyone else was having a hard time because of various things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missed opportunity

**Author's Note:**

> The request was "Q has a crush on Bond but somehow ends up rejecting him and when Q's ready to move on with another person, Bond suddenly notices him" from the lovely yankyou 
> 
> Please forgive any and all mistakes and most of all, enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fixed by the always awesome Bubbletrix <3

Q had thought himself to be above the rest. He was able to resist James Bond’s charm, but just two months after he had been named the new Quartermaster, he was forced to admit that he was no better than the rest of MI6.

 

“Stay with him on the coms constantly and you’ll be singing another tune, Q. You’ll consider him a disgusting old man and ask yourself how it was possible for someone as bright as you to ever think of that ancient piece of meat in a sexual manner.” Eve assured him, patting his back after she finally managed to get her giggling under control.  

 

But that turned out to be a horrible idea. Q’s crush only grew and he ending up aroused more than a couple of times whilst listening in to what - or rather, who - he was doing as his latest conquest.  Eve suggested that he simply needed a good romp from the man to get him out of his system, apologizing instantly at Q's shocked expression.

 

She took his hands in hers and dragged him to a dark corner of the cafeteria. 

 

“Look, Q, he’s no good. He’s broken and he cannot think or plan beyond having sex. He’s bad for you.”

 

“As if I don’t know that, Eve.” He allowed himself to pout. “But can you really control how you feel about anyone?” His mouth was instantly covered by the older woman, stopping him for saying anything else.

 

“If you say you love him, I will pull you over my knee and spank that ridiculous notion out of you, do you understand?” She waited for the man to nod, but all she got was a glare and an unspoken promise to cancel all her accounts unless she took a step back away from him and rethink her words. “If you don’t want me to stop you, then what do you want of me?”

 

“Your help, Miss Moneypenny.” He sighed and in that moment, Eve got the distinct impression that she was staring at a shy, 16 year old asking his older sister for help with his first crush. “How do I hint my feelings to him?”

 

She didn’t want to suggest to him to go to the agent’s home and wait for him naked in his bed, so instead she explained to the young man how to show his interest via clothes, conversation, and the gadgets he gave him. Though she regretted the last one since Q started to spend more and more time locked away in his lab, slaving away for the agent that completely missed the fact that he was being wooed.

 

Q couldn’t completely give up his cardigans, but under the guise of going to a fancy party, he asked James if he could give him a few pointers. The agent, being the peacock he was, dragged the man out of his branch and dropped him off at his tailor. The younger man hoped that the agent would keep him company, but by the time he finished explaining to the tailor what he wanted James was already waltzing out with a young woman, calling over his shoulder for Q to put it on his tab.

 

The com conversations also did not work. James teased Q about how a little boy his age shouldn’t use words like that and that he should probably be in bed at that hour until the tips of Q's ears burned and handed Bond to R. James had the audacity to be shocked when he heard the woman’s voice instead of Q’s, asking her where his ‘pint-aged’ quartermaster was.

 

“Working on something more important than your little booty call, agent. Now turn your head to the left again and give the program enough time to analyse the room and see where the little bird hid herself.”

 

But what really broke Q’s heart was when he called the agent to a well-known café to give James the exploding pens he kept harping on about. He should have known from the start how horrible everything would be, the man showing up an hour late, unshaven, and half drunk.

 

The man didn’t even bother to greet Q, just grunted something before latching on to the waitress’ hand. 

 

“Does this place serve anything with alcohol?” He winked at her when she nodded, eyes following her until she disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Q fidgeted until the agent turned to look at him again, pulling a small box from his shoulder bag. 

 

“Bond, I have something for you.” He chewed on his lips until the man opened the lid, looking up with hopes in his eyes.

 

James was shaking a pen, frowning. “Your way of telling me I need to start writing those blasted reports?” He put the object back inside the box, and pushed it back to Q. “I’ll get to them soon, Quartermaster, I promise.” He scratched his chin as he turned his attention to the woman from before, causing her to spill a drink on his lap.

 

“Oh my, I am so sorry!” She said and started to pat his lap, face turning red and giggling when James winked at her. “I get off in fifteen minutes. My place or yours?”

 

“Yours, of course.” He brushed his hand down her leg, oblivious to Q pushing his chair back and walking out of the café. 

 

"Q, think her co-worker might want to give you a try if you–Q?" He frowned and looked in the men's before walking back to the table where he was approached by one of MI6’s usual delivery boys.

 

"I was told to give you this.” 

 

He presented Bond with a scrap of paper that had Q’s beautiful handwriting.

 

_Bond,_

_They explode. Use them wisely because you don’t deserve more than these ones,_

_Q_

 

The young man ended up crying himself to sleep that night, huddled under his blanket with his cat, ignoring all phones that weren’t for work.  He knew Eve was right, and he realized that he didn’t actually stand a chance, but he'd hoped for James to grace him with at least one smile and an honest 'Thank you’. But all he got for his hard work was as good as a slap in the face and a spit in his general direction.

 

He was spared from interacting with the man the following day as he was sent on assignment while Q was in a meeting, and R ended up equipping him. 

 

“He was quite upset when he saw me, boss,” R told Q, hands crossed over her chest. “Looked like he wanted to kick me out of the room, but Eve put him in place before I could open my mouth or test something on him.”

 

Q spent the next two weeks locked in his lab, immersing himself in his work, especially after he was forced to interact with James over the coms - although the man was acting strangely. He'd asked to speak with Q when there wasn’t any reason to do so and always trying to veer the conversation away from his mission.

 

“I just wanted to…”

 

“You wanted to nothing, agent.” Q interrupted him, the man getting on his last nerve and too tired to care about what he had to say if it wasn’t work related. “R will manage the coms unless it is an emergency and if you dare have anyone call me out of my office and away from my work, which I do to make everything easier for double-oh agents need I remind you, I will make it so that your next mission will be somewhere in a frozen tundra.” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did I make myself clear?”

 

A few seconds of static had Q foaming at the mouth, sure that the agent had dared to end the connection on him. “Crystal,” came the defeated voice. “007, signing out.”

 

Eve intercepted him after that, eventually getting the whole story out of him. She promised Q to get revenge on the agent in his name, and also to also fix him with someone that was worthy of his attention. She was gone before Q could stop her and the following day, she was waiting for him at the entrance to MI6, with a blond man with blue eyes and a shy smile right behind her, that Q knew to be the head of a department.

 

“I’m Adam,” the man said, extending his hand and shaking Q’s. “I was hoping that maybe we could go grab diner sometime?”

 

“I am not in the mood for that kind of human interaction, but thank you for the offer.” He turned to give Eve a sharp glare, a shy tap on his shoulder distracting him.

 

“How about if I ask for a lunch? Right here at MI6? You, me and our underlings?” He gave Q a smile that had nothing on James, but was still pleasant and relaxing. “Just as two department heads and nothing more, I promise. I’ll wait for you to tell me when you are ready to give me a chance with dinner.”

 

Q found himself nodding in agreement, shaking the man’s hand and barely catching his name before R appeared to ask for his help since 006’s mission was starting to go tits up. And that was how the rest of that month went for him. Double-oh mission after double-oh mission started to be problematic, the agents screwing up in such a way that it made Q think they had all talked with each other and agreed to keep him too busy for a lunch-date.

 

But Adam proved to be quite resourceful and started to bring lunch into Q-Branch. He watched work with nothing but admiration in his eyes, causing Q to blush a few times.

 

“You are amazing, Q!” Adam explained as he watched him guide 007 out of an enemy base and to a safe house. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be so…Wow.”

 

“Q, who’s there with you?” James asked and the young quartermaster could see the agent move his hand around a security camera, as if expecting to see beyond it and into Q branch. “I think we’re compromised. Get security on the line and —”

 

“Nothing of the sort, agent.” Q replied in his most professional voice. “Our eyes in the sky will be on you. Q over and out.”

 

“Q, give me a—” The connection cut before the agent could finish and R almost clapped, moving to push her beloved overlord in Adam’s direction while she took Bond-watching - the man actually needed a babysitter since he got into trouble so often.

 

And sure enough, a few days later, James screwed up his mission badly and got himself shot off yet another bridge, dying. But everyone in the MI6 was sure that the man was just licking his wounds in the bed of some hot woman, waiting for the right time to crawl back to his mother country.

 

Q claimed that he was not worried at all, but both Eve and Adam - and the rest of MI6 - knew better. The man had countless tracking programs running, kept all communications open in case James tried to contact them, and had all his contacts on standby for retrieval. And that was without mentioning that his nails were chewed, dark bags under his eyes, and even a five o’clock shadow which made Adam be bold enough to invade his personal space and rub their faces together.

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, taking a step back and raising his hands in the air. “But I didn’t think you could look any better than before. I was proved wrong.”

 

Q rubbed his chin and took a step closer to the other man, crossing his hands over his chest. “I think I will be quite famished tomorrow night. How about that dinner?”

 

“I would be more than honoured, Quartermaster”

 

The next day couldn’t come any faster and Q even left from work early to get ready. He reached home with a little skip in his step, his heart dropping in the pit of his stomach when he realized that someone was in his apartment. The stranger threw himself at Q before the man had time to think, pinning him on the ground and holding his hands above his head.

 

“Don’t struggle, Q. I don’t think I managed to fix myself properly and I’d hate to get blood all over you,” James voice came right in Q’s ear, causing the young man to shiver. “I’m going to let you go now, okay?” A nod and he was off his quartermaster, his offer to help him up ignored.

 

Dusting himself off, Q looked the man up and down, noting the way he had his hand over his abdomen. 

 

“Welcome back, agent.” He walked past him, managing to avoid getting his arms caught, and tossed his satchel on the sofa. “I’m in a rush, so unless you are dying, the first-aid kit is in the kitchen. I'm sure you will find everything you need.”

 

Q made his way to his room, digging through his wardrobe to pull out the suit he had James’ tailor make from him. He jumped back when he saw the man leaning against the door-frame, frowning. 

 

“The kitchen is in the other side of the apartment, agent.”

 

“Please call me James.”

 

“Agent,” Q insisted, checking his watch. “Out of the way. I don’t want to be late.”

 

James frowned and blocked the door. 

 

“James, please. And are you going to meet with that man that was in your branch when you were guiding me, listening in on us?”

 

“None of your business, agent. Now step aside before I send you to Medical.” A glaring match started, and ended with James lowering his head and allowing Q to pass. The agent followed after the man much like a puppy until the bathroom door was slammed shut and locked in his face.

 

“Your pens saved my life,” James spoke over the running water. “You saved my life. Again. I want to thank you, Q. How about you let me take you to dinner? Out on a yacht, outside England? You look tired.”

 

The water shut off and because his he had his ear up against the door, he could hear Q getting dressed. 

 

“And who is to thank for that, agent? Anyway, it is my duty to save agents and there is no reason for any of them to treat me in any special way just because I do my job.”

 

When the door opened, the sight that greeted James left him breathless. Q’s hair was damp, his glasses foggy and the tip of the man’s pink tongue peeked out from between his lips as he attempted to get his tie into a knot.

 

“Let me do that for you.” But before James could even finish extending his arm, Q was pushing a towel in it, brows furrowed.

 

“You’ll get blood on me.” His phone chimed and when Q read the message he received, a little smile appeared on his lips that angered James. “The sofa is yours, but please don’t bleed all over it or die while I am out. The paperwork is time-consuming.”

 

“Q, please…” This time the agent managed to grab Q’s hand, though he was careful not to get blood over his nice suit. “I realize that I was a complete idiot and I am so sorry for the way I acted and for being blind. Would you please give me a chance?” He kissed the tip of Q’s fingers and for a moment, he was sure that the younger man saw the light and decided to give him another chance.

 

But Q pulled away and James felt his heart break into little pieces, which shouldn’t be possible anymore. 

 

“If you don’t antagonize my cat, she will leave you alone and don’t you dare interrupt my date, agent.” He checked himself in the mirror near the front door, clicking his tongue when he noticed that his hair was refusing to cooperate with him again. How typical of it, he thought. “Have a good night.”

 

The door closed with a loud click, leaving James in complete darkness and feeling worse than he did when he got shot. The cat made her presence known just then, rubbing her head against his leg and starting to purr when the man scratched behind her ear.

 

“I don’t suppose you can help me fix this?” The noise she made sounded like a definite no. And he had a feeling that even if he asked the entirety of MI6 and offered to buy them castles in Spain, the answer would be the same.


	2. Common cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovely thundernight asked for "an injured or sick!Q and doting mother hens!James and Alec". I went with sick!Q
> 
> Fixed by the always awesome Bubbletrix <3

Q was a not a force to be trifled with despite the fact that he looked like a gust of wind could pick him up and carry him to faraway lands. He was quick on his feet and had pockets full of nifty gadgets that could incapacitate even a sumo wrestler. But he was most deadly when he was behind a screen, a devious grin breaking across his lips the moment he brought the program he was hacking to its knees.

 

He usually looked angelic, helped by the way the screen light fell on him as if it were a halo, but on this particular night he looked dead. It emphasised how pale he was, making the beads of sweat rolling down his temple shine and accentuating his bloodshot and swollen eyes. He was also weak on his feet, swaying if he didn’t lean against something and shaking a little when he did.

 

His minions worried about him, one even following him around the room with a chair in case he collapsed, until Q snapped and sent him home. 

 

“I need to concentrate on the bloody code and I can’t do that if I keep hearing those little wheels scratch the floor!” 

 

He leaned forward a bit and everyone took a step towards him, some dropping their tablets to try and catch him. 

 

“I am fine! Just a bit dizzy and maybe nauseous,” Q insisted, swatting away at R’s hands. “After 007 is safe and sound on the plane, I will go to Medical and then home.”

 

R arched her eyebrow, hands resting on her hips and Q looked at her feet, expecting one to start tapping at any moment. 

 

“Speaking freely sir, that is what you said two hours ago when 004 needed to hack that computer. And then Agent 007 came on and you threw your bag at Robinson and pushed Thalia out of your way. What if, after this agent, another one comes on the coms? Will you risk collapsing instead of letting us be of some help?”

 

Q tilted his head and thought for a moment, no doubt trying to remember if 006 was on a mission or not. He had a not-so-secret crush on both Bond and Trevelyan and liked to run their missions as often as he could. 

 

“Have I made a mistake so far? Did my fingers hover over the keys while I looked lost at the screen?” He huffed when R shook her head, opening another window to hack in the airport’s database and secure a flight home for the agent. “Then trust me. I know when I've reached my limit.”

 

R doubted Q had a limit when it came to Trevelyan and Bond, easily imagining the young man coming back to life if they needed his help. It was as if he had a special little pocket of energy reserved for those two agents – which had to be quite large seeing as they always got into danger. It was cute and sweet in a disturbing and worrying way that Q had a crush on two dangerous and territorial agents.

 

And the crush was quite mutual. The agents brought the young man back all sorts of strange gadgets they found in whatever hellhole they had been sent to. They topped it off with sweets and exotic teas with impossible to pronounce names if they had destroyed Q’s gadgets. Again, cute in a disturbing way, especially when R remembered that poor soul from Accounting who didn’t seem to get the hint that Q was not interested until he was cornered by the double-ohs in a dark parking lot.

 

“Can’t you at least leave the flight booking to us? I promise not to stick him in a plane full of pigs as punishment for scaring me half to death during his last mission when he refused to say anything until we put him in contact with you.” Especially since Q had already seen to do just that, enrolling the man in a class that taught proper etiquette as well as subscribing him to a strange magazine named ‘Old But Still Hip’.

 

She really wished they’d stop dancing around each other and turn the duo into a trio already, no matter how much everyone enjoyed the flirting and teasing between them. It was also tiring to constantly be providing extra earwigs for the agents. They tended to destroy the first set if they had to sleep with someone, less Q hear.

 

“You can start on the Q-Branch report if you’re bored, R.” He was teasing, of course, since he had invented a nifty little program that typed it up as the mission went. “I’ll be done in five minutes, so you can stop nagging, dear.” He turned the coms back on just in time for James to hear the last few words and everyone tried to hold back their laughter when the agent choked on whatever he was drinking.

 

“How come I am a 'bloody nuisance' when I nag and she’s a dear? And what is she nagging you about? I do so hate to be kept in the dark and-" Q turned the coms off, raising a single finger in the air to warn everyone in the room that he was not in the mood.

 

Of course he didn’t leave after Bond’s mission finished, opting instead to retreat to his private office and go over the information the agent had recovered. When R saw the Quartermaster turn on the heat and wrap himself in his coat despite how hot it was, she decided that it was time to call in the big guns and one of the Quartermaster’s not-so-secret weaknesses. Namely Alec Trevelyan.

 

***

 

Having just returned from a mission and discovering that his partner of five years was still away and that their mutual interest was busy (and currently throwing objects at anyone who dared to approach him with things not related to work), Alec had decided to fuck off to his apartment and catch up with some of his games.

 

What saved his recently-fixed console from getting filled with bullets after he had failed a mission with which he’d have no trouble in real life was a short text from R which read: ‘999:Q. 7 in air’. It sent him flying out of the apartment, stuffing his coat with guns and knives as a million of worst-case scenarios ran through his mind.

 

He reached MI6 in record time because he considered traffic laws to be guidelines more than actual laws. He zipped past cops and radars so fast that he was nothing more than a blur – well, the humans saw him, but all their machines recorded was a black blur since his car had been modified by Q as a birthday gift and the young man knew how much he loved speed.

 

When he finally reached the MI6 building, he was greeted by a nervous guard who ended up having to run after him because he had made the grave mistake of starting his explanation with “The Quartermaster is in Medical right now”.

 

“Find me whoever hurt him and inform him that he is my new moving target,” Alec growled, kicking the doors open and sending whoever was in his way jumping into a wall, cowering behind whatever they had in their hands. If someone had hurt his Q, there will be hell to pay. Even if M did actually keep to her word this time and send him into the Sahara Desert to act as a bodyguard to camel or whatever.

 

“He’s in Medical because of a combination between a cold and lack of sleep!” The guard managed to say right before the elevator doors closed in his face, suddenly afraid for whoever sneezed within Alec’s hearing range.

 

The news relaxed the agent, although he regretted that he wouldn’t be using his guns any time soon. He had learned a new trick with which he wanted to show off in front of Q, and then get to spend a couple of hours glued to his back to show him the proper stance for it.

 

“Here to harass my staff, Agent?” The eldest doctor in MI6 said from behind his paper, not even bothering to glance at him. How someone who was supposed to be half deaf by that age still managed to catch one of the top double-oh agents when he tried to sneak around went beyond him.

 

Alec straightened himself up and laughed, starting to deposit his weapons on the desk. 

 

“I am only popping in to visit Q and make sure he has everything he needs, Doc. Nothing more, nothing less, I promise.”

 

The paper was rolled up and the strike was lighting fast. 

 

“The last time one of you double-ohs popped in to see how the Quartermaster was doing ended with one of the new nurses almost having her nose broken.“

 

Ah yes, that incident. “To be fair, James had just returned from a mission and he entered the office just as Q was screaming. If anything, he should be commended for how fast he acted, scooping up the Quartermaster in his arms all the while using his legs to defend himself.” Never mind that James got a sharp elbow in his stomach for his paranoia and ‘banished’ from Q’s domain for a whole week

 

The doctor couldn’t look any less amused if he tried. He could give M a run for her money when it came to sour faces. 

 

“There is nothing wrong with him besides a bad case of the common cold. R has informed me that he might be going home with you so do make sure he takes his medicine.”

 

It took Alec a moment to actually find Q, the man having burrowed under the covers, looking like a giant cat who was trying to hide from the world. The agent thought about perching on a chair next to the bed and wait for Q to wake up on his own since he looked beyond exhausted, but he hated hospitals and the gurney looked uncomfortable.

 

Now, his bed was custom-made and so soft that every one of their night stands said they felt like they had been fucked on a cloud. It was also large enough to fit three people with room to spare so both him and James would have no trouble wrapping themselves around Q to help him sweat the fever out.

 

Trying his best not to rub his hands together in a manner that would remind anyone of a dubious fly - at least that was what James compared him to every time he did it - he placed his hand against Q’s back to gently shake him awake. 

 

“Doc, you sure he’s okay? He’s burning up. Maybe you need to stuff some more medicine in him.”

 

“Alec, why in the bloody hell are you yelling in my ear? Loud sounds do not go hand in hand with your job as a spy.” Q opened one eye to glare at him, weakly pushing his head away from his. “Don’t stand so close to me unless you want my germs.”

 

Alec chuckled, turning his head to kiss the inside of Q’s palm.

 

“Anything you give me is good, Q.” He tried rubbing away the frown off of Q’s forehead, the man obviously not charmed by his line. “Now wrap your arms around my neck so I don’t drop you when I carry you to my car.”

 

Q brought up his legs and tried to push Alec away from him, pulling the covers back over his head. 

 

“I will do no such thing because you will do no such thing. Bond is probably on his way back from the airport so go torment him.”

 

“I promise that we’re better at taking care of you than our equipment,” Alec insisted, pinching Q’s backside to get him to stop moving long enough to properly wrap the blanket around him and pick him up in his arms. The doctor put a bag full of medicine on the sick man’s chest.

 

“I’ll go to HR and file a complaint,” Q threatened although he rested his head under Alec’s chin, fisting his hands in his shirt. “And I’ll give you nothing but paperclips and paperweights on your next mission, I promise.”

 

No one dared to make eye contact with the smug looking double-oh agent or ask him why he had a sleeping Quartermaster in his arms. The only poor soul who was forced to interact with Alec was the parking lot security guard. The man awkwardly asking if everything was okay, brushing his finger against his weapon.

 

“Unless M knows the cure to the common cold, then no,” Q’s scratchy voice came from Alec’s chest, scaring the guard. “No need to worry, he’s not kidnapping me. He’d be the last agent to kidnap me.” He rubbed his head against Alec’s chin before he could stop himself, forgetting where he was for a moment.

 

“I would so kidnap you,” Alec said, distracting Q from his embarrassed thoughts. “Take you to a nice island or something.” He made sure the blanket was still wrapped around his sick companion, also draping his jacket on him before turning on the heat - he could drive shirtless if it got too hot in the car. Now that he thought about it, Q might enjoy that.

 

“I hate flying, so you’d have to commandeer a boat.” Q said, rubbing his eyes. “Hmm, I had no idea that I could reach my apartment by going in the exact opposite direction of it.”

 

Alec flashed him a smile, ruffling his hair, but stopped when Q winced. 

 

“That’s because we’re going to James and mine’s apartment. And I am happy to tell you that I have recently acquired a boat which might make your kidnapping experience more pleasant. And you already know that James used to be in the navy, so we have everything covered.”

 

“Except for the island part. Don’t even dream about it, Trevelyan! I’ll turn you over to M if I find a single Google search for how to steal an island,” Q said when he realized that he wasn’t seeing things and Alec’s face had indeed gotten on his ‘Deep Thinking’ face.

 

***

 

James couldn’t wait to get home and take a shower. It had been a sort of an awkward first class flight, what with him having dirt smeared all over his shirt and pants while everybody was dressed in their best clothes. At least no one bothered him and kept their distance, even if the stewardess kept hinting that she wouldn’t mind helping him join the mile high club. But no, he was too tired and missed his lover’s touch too much to care about a pretty set of eyes that held the promise of pleasure in them.

 

Back on British soil he was forced to play a little game of hide-and-seek with the poor driver from MI6 who had been sent to pick him up, giving the desperate man the slip in less than five minutes. He’d have to remember to send him a bottle of wine as an apology for giving M a reason to chew him out.

 

He would have gone to MI6 if he was sure that Q was still there, but it was already 8 PM and the Quartermaster had sounded beyond tired on the coms. He even had second thoughts about asking for his help when he heard him, thinking about saying something like ‘I missed your voice’ or ‘I was getting sleepy on this dragging mission and thought that hearing you scream my name in my ear might get me to move faster’ but decided against it because he wasn’t that horrible and also because he didn’t want to be put back on Q’s blacklist.

 

With the traffic on his side for once in his life, he got home at a respectable hour, surprised to not find Alec half drunk and naked in the middle of their living room, pissing off whatever poor teenager he stumbled on in his shooting game. Instead, the entire house was dark and silent and that worried James a bit.

 

Had his mission gone badly? No, Q or Eve would have given him a fair warning so he had time to prepare to nurse Alec back to their version of normal. His car was downstairs and his favourite pair of shoes had been discarded in the hallway as usual, so he couldn’t have gone out to drink. The security system they had was Q's creation, so he would have known the second someone broke in, so finding his lover dead, painted in gold or oil was also out of the question. Then what was wrong?

 

“Alec? Are home? Is everything okay?” He was tackled to the ground before he could reach for his weapon, his lover’s hands pressed against his mouth.

 

“Shh! Q finally managed to go to sleep,” the tall man whispered, balancing on his heels to peek behind him. “He’s been tossing and turning for the last two hours and I think the one of us who is still dressed will have to go out and buy more pillows for him because he said that his back was hurting even after I stuffed every pillow we had under him. Or maybe we should get a new mattress.”

 

He was tempted to ask Alec what he was on right before kicking his ass for actually  _being_  on, but then he heard a painful moan coming from their bedroom, followed by a coughing fit which had Alec jumping off him and bolting into the room.

 

James followed him and was struck speechless to find their beloved Quartermaster looking more like a disorientated cocoon than an actual human, Alec firing question after question at him. 

 

“Do you need anything, Q? I promise I won’t burn the water this time if it’s tea. Or maybe you want something to eat? Think we have an old magazine with all sort of recipes in it.”

 

“Alec, let the poor man answer and if it’s food he wants, we’ll order,” James intervened, sitting at the foot of the bed. “Hello, Quartermaster. I had hoped to find you in good health.”

 

Q gave him a lop-sided smile, pulling back a bit. “But I am glad to see that you only have mud on you.” All of his breath left him and Q started to cough, Alec quickly shoving a napkin in his face. “Although, if you wish to remain healthy, will you convince Alec to take me home?”

 

“No chance in hell, genius,” James said, pushing Q to lie back in bed, rubbing circles on his temples. “You take care of us, so it is only fair for us to take care of you when you need it.”

 

The sleeping arrangements were obvious for everyone involved and they might have all slept like newborns if it wasn’t for Q needing to take his medicine every four hours or for the coughing fits that overcame him. He apologized each time, either falling back asleep while James rubbed his back or Alec massaged temples, looking peaceful.

 

But the worst of the cold came along towards the end of their first night together, Q caught in the dark tendrils of a horrible nightmare and sweating like mad. Both agents were startled awake, hands clutching their weapons when Q sat up right, hitting James in the face with his fist and kicking Alec in his groin.

 

When the sick man tried to run to the door, Alec threw himself on his back and tripped him, actually having a little bit of trouble to keep him down. Who knew that under those cardigans Q was hiding actual muscles instead of just skin and bones? At least they could stop worrying about the man’s eating habits.

 

“Q, you’re safe. We got you. It’s just a dream,” Alec whispered in his ear, flipping him on his back and trapping his hands by his side before he got punched, James holding down his legs.

 

Q struggled for a bit before his eyes snapped open, scream dying on his lips. “Alec? James? I thought… Never mind. I hate being sick and agents definitely shouldn’t see their quartermaster being this weak.” He sighed as Alec kissed his forehead, moving off of him, although James seemed to feel better if he still kept a firm hand on one of his legs as if his touch was keeping him anchored in reality – and perhaps it did. Q looked at him with gratitude.

 

“Agents no, but friends yes and the three of us are odd friends. Now how about a quick shower and a change of clothes while Alec changes the sheets?” An elbow to his neck kept Alec from protesting and James picked Q up in his arms and carried him to the bathroom, setting him down on the toilet while he got the right water temperature.

 

It didn’t even register in Q’s mind that James was undressing until he felt the man’s hands on his back. It should have felt odd, but Q decided to blame his cold for thinking this was normal and for leaning back against the man, a shiver of pleasure passing through his body when he felt those surprisingly soft lips against the nape of his neck.

 

Alec went for a more direct approach after he joined them, capturing Q’s lips in a deep kiss that had the young man moaning softly in his mouth and wrapping his arms around his neck to keep himself steady – although that had something more to do with the fact that he was sick than with how good of a kisser Alec was.

 

The kiss ended when Q felt the need to cough overcome him and he pushed Alec away, crouching down in the tub and covering his mouth. James shut off the water and retrieved a large, fluffy towel, wrapping Q in it and rubbing his back through it until the fit passed.

 

“You two will definitely get sick now. Really, I think we could have waited a bit longer to start making out,” Q wheezed out as Alec carried him back to the bed, helping him into a shirt that was two sizes too large and one of his old sweatpants.

 

“Maybe Alec. And I’d hate to let Alec be the only one to suffer.” James tilted Q’s head back and stole a quick kiss. “There, now I’ll also get sick and you’ll have to take care of me as well.”

 

That was the only day the men allowed Q to have a nightmare. They woke him up at the first painful groan or distressed whimper and covered his face and neck in kisses, easing him back into a more pleasant dream. And seeing that the whimpers where exchanged for moans and mutterings of their names while he sometimes rubbed against them, it was safe to say that their mission was a success.

 

None of them cooked and that was for the better because Q really couldn’t put up with the blaring siren of the fire truck. Eve had been kind enough to pass along the number to a family restaurant that had the best chicken soup in all of London, although to Q it tasted like cough syrup and cold medicine. Really, the only way he finished an entire bowl was because he was fed by James or Alec, the two agents looking like they were enjoying feeding him far too much.

 

“If I ever see soup again, I will pour it over whoever brought it. I fear that my teeth will fall out from lack of use.”

 

Alec tried not to laugh so he wouldn’t spill what he had in the spoon.

 

“Of course you will, Quartermaster. Now open wide and eat this for James,” he said. Q glared at him before slamming himself back on the bed and burrowing deeper in the pillow nest.

 

James slapped his lover over the back of his head, placing down a nice cup of hot tea. “Alec, don’t antagonize the sick man. Especially when you’re ten times worse than him. Now go pick up the things he needs from his apartment.”

 

It took Q two more days before he could actually finish a line of coding without falling asleep, using one of the two men as a pillow. That made the agents feel both disappointed and happy. Happy because Q was getting better, but disappointed because they no longer had an excuse to 'accidentally' brush up against him.

 

Q was more than happy to help them get over that, more generous with his kisses that gave way to long make-out session, no longer interrupted by coughing fits. Their quick showers turned into lazy baths and by the time Q’s body temperature returned to normal, he had almost all his things in their apartment and the appropriate MI6 papers had been filled to make the trio relationship official.

 

“I’ll have to go back to work in two days, but I think we need to celebrate this somehow and I am sure the two of you have a wonderful idea for how we should do that,” Q said, practically radiating between the two men, a rub behind his ears away from purring.

 

Alec rolled over him, covering his face in kisses only for his lips to be blocked by James’ hand. “Let’s go with a nice, chicken soup and snot free dinner, Alec.” He pushed him back and pulled Q under him, a rather violent pillow fight breaking out between the two agents that stopped when their younger lover dashed into the bathroom, stripping.

 

James licked his lips, eyes narrowing. “He still wobbles when he has to stand up for long periods of time.”

 

“We should make sure that he doesn’t fall and hit his head,” Alec continued, both men taking their clothes off to join Q.

 

But their plans for a great dinner got ruined when both agents woke up with horrible headaches and covered in sweat, the MI6 doctor flashing a light in their eyes as Q fixed them with narrowed eyes.

 

“You two caught my cold. Didn’t I tell you that you’d get my cold?” Q scolded them, throwing his hands in the air while the doctor made himself scarce. “I have a few of my minions, as everyone loves to call them, dropping by later to set things up so I can run missions from home.”

 

Both men perked up when they heard that, looking as if they got a bit of colour back. 

 

“So you’re not going to stick us in Medical while we’re sick? You’ll stay with us and nurse us back to health with your touches and kisses?” James asked in a voice that was too sweet not to have at least a bit of acting behind it. He pulled Q closer to him and buried his head in his stomach, Alec trying to grab his shirt and get him between them.

 

The storm in Q’s eyes settled down, replaced by fondness and something that neither man wanted to name yet. “I care for the nurses and doctors too much to unleash you two on them while sick.” He yelped when James bit his stomach, losing his balance long enough for Alec to pull him in bed. “I also love my agents too much to force them in a room they hate.”

 

James moved his warm hands under Q’s shirt, lightly scratching his back. “And we love our Quartermaster so much so that’d we would dress up as nurses if he asked us.”

 

“I’d make a killer nurse,” Alec chimed in, tipping Q’s head back to steal a kiss.

 

But instead of kissing the agent, Q pushed a pillow in his mouth, chuckling. “In more ways than one, I imagine.” He wiggled excruciatingly slow off of them, a huge grin on his face saying that he knew what he was doing to them. “Now be good patients and let me order you that wonderful soup you forced me to eat this past week.”

 


	3. Not such a good idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. Q gets kidnapped and his lovers go rogue to save him
> 
> thundernight requested Q getting kidnapped with JAQ already in play

After Skyfall, James Bond and Q grew close. Very close; so close that one day, when M walked into Q’s office, he found the young man pushed up against a wall, shirt undone, glasses on the ground, and with 007’s lips attached to the side of his neck. His first thought had been that the agent had finally snapped, but it became clear that everything was consensual when Q wrapped his legs around his middle and pushed him closer, slipped his hands under his shirt and moaned out his name in a way that could put porn actors to shame.

 

At least M now understood why so many people had tried stopping him when they realized where he was heading. It was a high probability that he was the last of MI6 to find out about this relationship, Eve’s guilty look when he returned to his office followed by a dishevelled quartermaster and a proud looking James pretty much conforming it.

 

He warned the two, tried talking some sense into them, asked what would happen if one man stepped out on the other – noting that James’ actually made an attempt at being subtle as he grabbed the edge of Q’s sleeve, the other man turning his head slightly to give him a little reassuring smile – and when he realized that the two were dead set on carrying on with their liaison, warned that he would dock their pay if he should ever find them in such an intimate position while on duty.

 

“I will, of course, sporadically oversee how some of your missions are being ran and if I even think that one of you is unable to do their job properly because of this,” and M stuttered, vaguely waving in their direction, unable to admit out loud that his young quartermaster was in a relationship with MI6’s Casanova, “I will be forced to take action against one of you. Did I make myself understood?”

 

“Crystal,” they both said, but M wondered if they really heard him since they seemed busy to communicate with each other through their eyes, Q suddenly nodding. M decided that he really didn’t want to know and sent them away. He hoped, for all of their safety, that the two men actually knew what they were doing.

 

But you had to be blind to miss the little smile Q constantly had on throughout the day with almost nothing being able to bring down his mood. He seemed to float on his feet and he radiated with pure happiness and James was pretty much the same. Well, he didn’t float, he didn’t hum, but he looked pleased and calm and he didn’t smell like booze at all.

 

The agent spent every moment of his free time with Q in his department, either hovering somewhere behind him if he was running an important mission, constantly refilling his beloved’s mug with tea or making sure he actually ate, occasionally rubbing the base of his neck or back when he looked like he was in pain for sitting in the same position for too many hours.

 

If Q wasn’t running missions, he was explaining to James how certain gadgets were supposed to work and how they did what they did and although no one believed for a single moment that James was really as technologically inapt as he presented himself to be, Q was more than happy to glue himself to his back and slide his thin hands over James’ larger ones to show him how a something was supposed to be handled in order to work.

 

M might have also caught glimpses of the two in dark corners, kissing or simply hugging each other, especially after hard missions that drained Q completely. He understood the need for an outlet and if in this case that was a few quiet minutes spent with lover, M couldn’t really bring himself to fine or scold either of them – he might have also been a bit worried all the MI6 employees mutinying if he upset their beloved Quartermaster.

 

James also became much more careful with both himself and his gadgets during his missions, and other than the two flirting with each other – which R informed M that was something they had done right from the start and it even helped the agent relax and concentrate better – they acted very professional.

 

There was just a minor little problem with everything: James was very protective of Q and easy to get into fights if it came to him. Well, he had been like that even before two started their relationship and M couldn’t believe he had forgotten that aspect. The crude wakeup call came right after a secret test Q put his minions to.

 

The Quartermaster had wanted to be sure that his minions were really the right material for MI6 and also to see if they could spot the inconsistencies that came along with a fake server in time to stop a reverse attack or if they were able to stop it before the Trojan got to their secrets and filled their computers to the brim with viruses or spyware.

 

Much to Q’s joy, almost all of his beloved minions passed with flying colours, the only one who failed miserably being the last remnant of Boothroyd’s branch. The man constantly gave Q a hard time, second-guessing his decisions and questioned his right to be the Quartermaster. In the man’s opinion, Q was nothing more than a child who had no real idea of what he was to be doing and covering that fact with a posh accent and fancy jargon.

 

It amused James to no end that the fool actually walked in Q branch the following morning with the smuggest smile he had ever seen, only for his mood to be ruined the second the man opened his mouth to demand that Q present his resignation.

 

“You couldn’t code your way out of a paper bag,” the man said, dangling in front of Q the USB stick that supposedly held info on all the agents currently in the field. “Silva was right. You are not clever at all and having you in this position is nothing more than a huge risk that could kill us all.”

 

In the blink of an eye, the man was on the ground with a broken nose, Q tightly wrapped around James to hold him from attacking again. That was the worst possible combination in existence when it came to James: insulting Q and mentioning the man who caused the death of the woman he considered to be his mother.

 

The boffin was relocated in the actual IT branch, Q was given free hand to hire whoever he wanted no matter how young they were and James was forced to go to anger management classes for two weeks. M would have also added a suspension to the agent’s punishment, but he was in his down time when the attack happened and he would have simply continued to hang around Q branch.

 

But since James bloody Bond was in the middle of paradise, something had to happen to send MI6 further down the office gossiping spiral. Alec, his old partner in crime as well as the only other double oh agent he could work on a mission without butting heads for real and well known lover finally returned from his deep undercover mission that had lasted two years.

 

Some swore that Q had tears in his eyes and that he ran out of the office when the two agents began to make out in front of him while others claimed Alec had knocked on Q’s head to see if he had a brain before pulling James into a hungry kiss.

 

M knew better because he had been present at the meeting. The newly returned agent had completely ignored Q’s age, pulling him into a bear hug and twirling him around when he recognized him as the Quartermaster. He stopped when he was asked, rearranged Q’s glasses, ruffled his hair and offered to be his private bodyguard if he ever needed one.

 

The part with both agents starting to make out in front of Q was, sadly true. But Q didn’t tear up or run crying from the room. No, he dutifully bagged all the gadgets he had recovered from Alec, pulled up a laptop that worked on a closed network so he could check the files and be sure that they wouldn’t affect the MI6 servers, not flinching when the two men bumped into his desk.

 

That was the point where M snapped, tossing his hands into the air and demanding that the men acted accordingly. Alec was still technically on duty, their boss was right in there with them as well as another superior and two extra staff members and how in the world did they expect the Quartermaster to do his job if they trashed his equipment.

 

“It is quite alright on my part,” Q said in a clipped voice, looking him dead in the eye. “They hadn’t seen each other in years and I am done here. I will drop this off with R and see that agent’s Trevelyan’s weapons are disposed of.”

 

Quick on his feet, but still moving graceful enough not to betray how hurt he must have felt, Q left the room. James had tried to follow him, filling in Alec on what had happened while he was away – and M was unlucky enough to hear the other agent congratulating him for landing himself such a fine young man to warm his bed while he was away – but by the time he reached Q branch, he had already become persona non grata.

 

He was informed by R that, unless it was mission related, he wasn’t allowed in Q branch anymore. Q also stopped looking as if he was walking on air, reverting to his serious self and burying himself deep in new projects that occupied all of his free time while James and Alec’s relationship picked up exactly where it had stopped.

 

M had worried that Q would be bitter about the whole thing and would actually lower himself to refusing to run James’ missions or help him, but the young man did not forget that he was the Quartermaster first and the jilted lover secondly. He simply avoided him outside of work and redirected him to R whenever the agent became bored during missions and tried to either make small talk with him or outright hit on him.

 

And yet, the agent surprised everyone when it became apparent that he was still going after Q despite clearly being in a relationship with Alec. He showered the young man in even more gifts, bribed or sneaked his way into Q branch just to be sure that Q was okay and M had even heard rumours of the agent suddenly showing up at his apartment at least four times a week.

 

You would expect his current lover to have a problem with that, but Alec didn’t. In fact, for the first month of his year long vacation that had been forced on him by a veritable army of MI6 psychiatrists, Alec actively encouraged James to at least get back on Q’s friend list.

 

But he eventually got fed up and decided to take matters into his own hands, James stepping back to give him space and let him do his thing. Alec started to trail after Q throughout MI6, grabbing whatever he had in his arms, offering to help him carry them wherever to wherever he needed, chatting his ears off about this and that and also nagging him into dropping projects that weren’t important when midnight was closing in and he knew that Q had to be back early in the morning.

 

The man even managed to get Q to lift the ban for James in his branch as well as to allow them to drive them home. And Q might have started to wonder what possessed him to do that since he now had two double oh agents hovering behind him, distracting him whenever he wanted to forget himself.

 

Two weeks of that and M was bracing himself for the day when he would find Q in his office, surrounded by the HR department, presenting official complaints against the two for more or less harassing him – well, M saw it as that, but he soon found out that was just the way double oh agents courted people – or at least with a request from the young quartermaster to be allowed to use them as lab rats. But in hindsight, what actually happened was more logical.

 

Eve was unusually nervous that Monday morning, trying her best to keep him from checking his mail while three minions kept hovering around his office, stumbling in their explanations about how the Quartermaster had sent them there to ensure that his computer was up to date.

 

“Last time I checked, the quartermaster only dealt with our firewalls and not with the actual operation program that’s installed on our computers,” M said slowly, eyes narrowed.

 

The boffins looked at each other nervously, starting to sweat a bit. “W-well, we were referring to the firewall system! Q sent us to be sure that everything is in order with it after last night’s updates.”

 

“The Quartermaster is on vacation,” he reminded them and everyone in the room flinched. “Now you will all quietly wait right here while I check my mail and see for myself what you all accidentally sent me and if it is another cat video, I will personally call your branch head and ask him to cut his vacation short so he could deal with you.”

 

It wasn’t a cat video and his head started to pound when he realized that he was actually looking through a series of pictures of the quartermaster on a date with the two agents. It started innocently enough, with the three of them enjoying a diner – and Q had that happy smile on his face once again while James and Alec appeared to only have eyes for him – and it ended with Q being sandwiched between the two on a dance floor, lips locked with Alec while James’ hands where somewhere under his shirt, tongue over his ear.

 

“I can explain that,” Eve started to say only to be silenced by the man holding his hand up.

 

“I don’t want to know. Did everyone get this?” He started to massage his head when the boffins nodded. “You know what? I will not punish anyone for using our internal mailing system for gossiping. But if Q decided to discipline you for breaking his branch’s own internal rules, it is out of my hands. Now everyone return to their work stations and do your bloody jobs.”

 

And Q’s punishment was swift and heavy, the entire Q branch being cut off from all outside entertainment for a month when they were at work while their own private homes ended up being deprived of Wi-Fi and cable for a full week. The one who actually took and sent the pictures suffered even more and because it turned out to be another double oh, James and Alec also made his life harder – and here M intervened, especially after a more brutal training session in which the two agents pretty much ganged up against the other one, almost breaking his arms.

 

Q himself scolded the agents for that and it was quite amusing to watch the two deadly agents hang their heads in shame, muttering apologies and promising to never do it again unless their young lover specifically asked for that type of punishment. Okay, the last part was a bit terrifying and M’s fear of what might happen if Q turned traitor increased since he now also had two of the best agents wrapped around his little finger on top of his wonderfully brilliant mind.

 

***

 

Q was a really warm and careful lover, the exact opposite of James and Alec. Before he came into their lives, Alec and James were rough with each other, happily wasting their money on alcohol and being completely careless even when they were in their down time. But after he was added to their seriously unhealthy relationship, things balanced themselves out.

 

They now had stability in their lives, an extra reason to come back from the field without a single scratch on them, especially since Q personally dragged them to medical and forced them to let the doctors take care of them, all the while reviewing the missions stats and pinching them whenever he reached the part where they got hurt but could have avoided it if only they followed his “bloody instructions”.

 

It was also Q that prompted them to buy a two-story apartment three months into their relationship because he disliked the dump they lived in – they couldn’t care less for it; it was just a place where they kept what little personal things they had and where they slept – and his apartment was too small.

 

After that, Q sold his, insisted on buying all the furniture which was probably the reason why the new place actually felt like a home and they fell in a semblance of a real life. He took care of their minds as best as he could, nursed them out of the realm of nightmares whenever their subconscious betrayed them, remind them that they weren’t alone and that he understood why they did what they did. A single touch from him was enough to silence all the accusatory whispers in their minds, instantly brightening up their days.

 

So it was pretty clear why Alec would have preferred it if his mission happened after his one year anniversary with Q and James and not before it. But, he really shouldn’t expect a mad scientist from Hungary who wanted to clone the Queen – bloody, stupid, useless, time consuming mission that went nowhere fast – to understand just how important spending time with his lovers was to him, properly thanking them for just existing in his live.

 

But that wasn’t the worst thing. James was also away on a mission which meant that their Q had been alone on a night he should have been eating the sheets and driving them crazy with his moans and little sounds, biting their shoulder blades and scratching their backs which, alongside other reasons, caused them to refer to Q was their kitten when they were in private.

 

For example, the young man loved to sleep stretched over the both of them, which surprised them because it didn’t really look all that comfortable. Really, what human didn’t wake up with back pains when he slept with his head on one man, legs thrown over the other, while he was bent in the middle?

 

Q also adored to lounge almost fully naked in front of their large windows so he could soak up the little sun London offered, laptop within his reach so he could take down shady governments or whatever while they drooled at the sight of him. Alec remembered that the first time they caught him doing that, they almost tripped over their own clothes in their rushed attempts to make sure he was properly warm.

 

Another thing he did that drove both agents mad with lust – well, madder than usual – was when the weather went a tad chilly and Q had took to wearing his favourite knitted sweater around the house, whose only redeeming quality as far as both he and James were concerned was that it somehow managed to be both small enough to end right under Q’s backside and lose enough to constantly be slipping off of his shoulder.

 

And he was missing everything because of a bloody madman and his bloody cloning machine that was simply an over-sized oven. Bloody clones! Who heard that and took it seriously? He was definitely going to talk to M and suggest that whoever decided this giant masquerade was MI6 worthy had his head checked.

 

Still, there had been a few good things that came out of the mission. Firstly, he didn’t destroy any of the gadgets Q gave him so that meant extra everything for him when he returned topped off with being allowed for an hour to sit glued to the younger man while he was in his own branch. Secondly, he found a lot of interesting trinkets that Q might find interesting. And thirdly, the only wound he got during this mission was a small bruise just above his hip bone which he could ask Q to kiss it better.

 

He became almost giddy when the airplane finally touched down and as soon as the doors were opened, he ran. However, his dreams of wrapping himself around Q and sneaking in the parking lot were dashed the second when he saw not greeted by young man with the wild hair, but by an extremely nervous MI6 lower tire agent.

 

Oh that meant that James’ mission was running longer than expected. But why would they bother to send someone after him if that was the case? Of course he was going to drop by the agency since Q was there, working. Actually, now that he took a closer look at the man, he seemed to grow paler with each step he took, visibly shaking.

 

Something bad must have happened with James on his mission and Q was probably too shook up by it. “Where’s James? How did it happen? Did you recover his body this time or you still haven’t learned your lesson and pronounced him dead just because he disappeared off your radars? How’s Q? Take me to him.” Alec said as soon as he was within the man’s hearing range.

 

“A-agent B-bond is M’s office as we s-speak, waiting for your r-return. He isn’t harmed,” he stuttered, nervously scratching his arms. “T-the Quartermaster, however…” He took a deep breath which only made Alec even angrier. He wasn’t a patient man on his best days, no matter how hard Q tried to teach him that

 

“Spit it out before I whip my pistol out and shoot the information out of you,” Alec growled, fingers twitching by his side.

 

The man whimpered and took a step back, drawing the attention of a few security guards. “There was an emergency with 005 and Q was sent in the field. But, the people who were supposed to greet him where replaced and he was…That is to say, we know for sure that the men weren’t related to the mission of the double oh he was there to assist…”

 

“Just form coherent sentences already!” Alec snapped. “And try to be quick about it because I’ve already started to hear that low whistle that usually comes right before I clear a room full of guns for hire.”

 

“The Quartermaster has been kidnapped. We don’t know how it happened, but he never reached the safe house and the two agents that were with were executed in plain sight. It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for this news to reach us.”

 

Alec started to laugh, leaning against the frozen man. The MI6 Quartermaster getting kidnapped, right. What a lame attempt at an idiotic joke. Poor guy must have lost a bet if he got stuck with playing this incredibly dangerous and stupid prank on him. He’d have to take him out for drinks later and congratulate him for having big enough balls to go through this.

 

“I am serious,” the man whispered pathetically and Alec felt himself becoming angry again. He had a sense of humour, but this was taking it too far.

 

“You honestly expect me to believe that one of the key elements of MI6 running smoothly was kidnapped? He was plucked right from under your soon-to-be bloody noses?” The short nod brought back the low whistle in his head again alongside the need to empty at least five bottles of the strongest vodka he could get his hands on. “Then why isn’t James in the field after him? Why are we still talking about this? I’m driving.”

 

The agent managed to hold from puking right until they got to the MI6 parking lot, but Alec was too busy tearing down doors to care about that. By the time he entered M’s office, he had two security guards clinging to him while R and Eve were vouching for him that he was indeed still on MI6’s side despite the gun he was arming.

 

“Good, he’s here. Now let’s cut the crap and go back to the bloody airport he just came from before we waste even more valuable time,” James said the second Alec walked in through the door, jumping up from the chair.

 

“Agent Bond, I already explained to you that you will be both confined in HQ and that you will not, in fact, be allowed to participate on this mission.” M said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he prepared for the hell that was about to break lose. “Agents have already been dispatched to deal with this matter.”

 

“I think I heard you wrong,” Alec said slowly. “Did you just inform your two best agents that they will not be going after the Quartermaster? James, tell me: did I suddenly forget English or did he say what I think he did?” He waited for James to nod before grabbing the man’s collar, lifting him from his chair.

 

How dare he sit there so calmly while Q was in danger? Did he actually expect Q to activate his cyanide pill and die for MI6? If that happened, then he would fight James for the right to torment M to death. They constantly walked on the edge of Hell, holding hands with Death itself to ensure that the country Q lived in was safe and this bloody bureaucrat dared to expect them to sit back and trust others with his safety?

 

M managed to keep his wits about him, although his hands where slightly trembling. “Agent, stand down or I will be forced to have you thrown in jail for aggravated assault against a superior.”

 

Alec brought his fist back to punch M, but he was stopped by James, the man quickly gluing his lips to his ear and whispering something in their own special Russian code. In the minute James needed to calm his lover down, the guards who were supposedly there to protect the big boss did nothing but stare at each other, hands shaking over the butts of their gun.

 

“No wonder they snatched him from right under your noses, _idioty_ ,” he said as took a step back, dusting M’s jacket before slumping in a chair. If he put a bullet in the right spot in their arms, he would bring a great service to everyone by ensuring they could never work as guards again.

 

James brushed his hand against Alec’s neck, a move that assured both of them that they were really there. “If a single hair on Q’s head is out of place when he’s brought back, we will not be held responsible for the amount of bones we’re going to break,” he warned. "Now if you’ll tell the kind security guards who really couldn’t hold us back if we were trying to move out of my way so I could go to the bathroom?“

 

M looked like he was actually considering sending an arm guard with James to the bathroom, eyes narrowed. "I will assume that we are all mature adults here.” He didn’t sound like he was too sure that this decision was the right one.

 

As soon as he left the office, R come in whispering something in M’s ear while Alec was on the edge of his seat, acting as if he was trying to eavesdrop. In reality, the woman was there to convince M to let Alec come down to Q branch under the pretence of helping him relax by testing some gadgets when, in fact, she was going to equip him and magic him to the country were Q was supposedly held.

 

James was waiting for him in the most generic car possible, squeezing his knee when he saw his sceptic look. “In R’s own words, this car has been pimped by Q. Not registered with MI6 just yet, so we won’t be on their radars. Well, we’ll be on R’s, but not M’s, so we’ll be allowed to do what we do best.”

 

They drove to what appeared to be an abandoned airport that came to life the instant they cut off the engine, the plane being in the air in less than thirty minutes with agents, car and all. Alec recognized a lot of the people who were helping them, especially the pilot and co-pilot who were two of Q’s favourite minions and he would have jokingly asked them if flying simulators were truly all someone needed to be a pilot if he the noise in his head stopped already.

 

James wasn’t faring any better, checking and double-checking the phone that was the only connection between them and Q branch. His right arm was slightly shaking and Alec had absolutely no doubt that his old bullet wound was acting up.

 

“Q’s safe.” He said suddenly, looking Alec dead in the eyes. “Q’s smart, so he’s safe.” To anyone who didn’t know the man, he was confident. To Alec, he was trying to convince both of them of what he was saying.

 

It was rare for them to be tender with each other if they weren’t in the privacy of their own home and properly spent, but they needed this. They needed to feed off of each other’s energy, trust and just pretend for a moment that everything was okay. So they closed their eyes and brushed their lips together, tongues carefully brushing together, arms tightly wrapped around each other.

 

It didn’t last for too long, but it was enough. “Yes, James. I have no doubt of that. Our Q is safe.”

 

***

 

Q had felt like something was off the moment he boarded the plane, but he had pegged that feeling on him generally disliking flying. But the feeling of being watched continued even after they passed through customs and by then, even his security detail had started to pick up on certain things, looking more and more worried.

 

The kidnappers didn’t even wait for them to leave the airport, killing his security detail out in the open, no doubt planning on using the panic of two men suddenly dropping dead in the pool of their own blood to distract anyone from noticing that a man was kidnapped. Well, at least he managed to break a nose and give a black eye before the cocktail of drugs injected in his blood stream took effect and knocked him out.

 

The first thing he saw when he woke up was a haggardly old woman dressed in white shining a light in his eyes. His first thought had been that something went horribly wrong with one of his more dangerous gadgets which landed him in Medical, but when he tried to lift his hands and cradle his pounding head, he realized that he was tied to the bed.

 

“Careful now,” someone said with a thick accent. “I am afraid Doctor rarely had to worry about sewing people properly, so your threads might break.”

 

Oh right, he had been kidnapped. Drop the posh accent, sound like the scared student on vacation that he was supposed to be. “What do you want from me?” He whimpered, turning his head after the woman, hoping to look pathetic enough to tug on her heart strings. “Please help me.”

 

A black haired man with a scar across his face entered his field of vision, tapping his head lightly with his chubby fingers. “Why can’t bloody spies drop the act when they are caught?” He gripped Q’s chin. “I know this goes so let me make it short for you. Boo-ho, I am a student, I don’t know anything. You mixed me up with someone else, but I have a rich relative that will pay anything to get me back so let me give you a phone number,” the man said in a mocking voice, pushing Q’s head back on the bed and slapping him. “MI6 needs innovations in all departments, not just the one that makes things that blow up.”

 

Was it bad that he actually agreed with him? At least the slap made it easier for him to tear up. “I really do not know what you are talking about.” Another slap, harder this time. “I’m a student who came here through the Work and Travel program.” The third slap completely numbed the left side of his face and he could feel the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

 

He thought he was going to get slapped again, but the man stopped himself. “I apologize. I have a short temper.” He produced a cloth drenched in medicinal alcohol from somewhere and started to rub it against his broken lip, causing him more pain. “Let’s start again. I am Alexei and you are the Quartermaster.”

 

Bloody hell, they had a mole in MI6. “Mr. Alexei, I really have no idea what you’re talking about. If you let me go, I promise I won’t tell anything to anyone!”

 

That ended him with a hand fisted in his hair and the man’s lips right next to his ear. “We took out the three tracking devices you had in you,” he growled before biting his ear hard. “And what student walks around with bag filled with strange devices that have mild traces of explosives on it? You think us stupid, Mr. Quartermaster?” The question was followed by a punch over his head that made Q’s bleeding ear ring.

 

At least the ring of suspects got narrowed down to just his branch and Medical. “I have no idea what you are talking about. What tracking devices? And just because you are well my senior and don’t understand how new technology works doesn’t mean that I am a spy.”

 

The man stuck his hand in his throat and started to squeeze. “You’re lucky I need you, boy. I killed everyone who lied to me in the past except for the one who gave me these marks on my face.” He stepped back, letting Q regain his breath. “I’ll give you an hour to re-evaluate your situation, Brat-master. Hope you are as smart as you say and change your tune.”

 

He left Q alone in the room, placing a guard right outside his door. Now, Q could start making a list of all the mistakes Alexei made just as he usually did with his minions, but of course he focused on trying to rescue himself.

 

Alec had taught him how to dislocate his fingers which he did to free his hands after he made sure there were no security cameras in there with him – and he should really stop feeling offended that there were none and thank his lucky stars that he was being underestimated.

 

He made sure that he was steady on his feet and, despite being a bit dizzy when he increased his speed, everything seemed to be in order. No stitches popped, no pain shot through his body and his clothes weren’t suddenly drenched in his blood. Alexei was really horrible at reading people, wasn’t it?

 

Now, if any of his lovers were in his place, they would take out the guard, steal his gun and walk right out through the front doors while spluttering a horrible one liner. But that was out of the question for him since one: he didn’t have his glasses and his aim was horrible and two: if the guards had semiautomatics, Q’d be sent flying into the wall due to the recoil.

 

“Well, the window it is then,” he muttered, looking for something to pick the lock with. “And thank you James for that helpful lesson.”

His next challenge was getting to the ground floor without losing his footing or being spotted by the potential guards that were lazily checking the perimeter which took him ten minutes. He snuck around until he reached a car which he hotwired and then busted through the rusty gates, bullets whizzing by him.

 

He couldn’t really read the signs he was passing by, but it was easy to follow the numbers and the arrows so he was entering a rather large city in under thirty minutes. He abandoned the bullet riddled car for one that had a GPS, almost jumping for joy when he realized that he was one the edge of the city in which he was supposed to help the double oh agent.

 

In fact, he was pretty close to an MI6 safe house and if he wasn’t in so much pain from the drugs completely wearing off, he would have started to hum in joy. But that was where his luck ran out, a car hitting his from behind while another one came from the right side.

 

He got the air knocked out of him when the airbags activated and a second later he was being trigged out of the wreckage by his hair, Alexei snarling in his ear. “We planted our own tracking device in you. Hope little bird enjoyed the little walk because I doubt you’ll ever see the sky again.”

 

It didn’t matter that he was back in the huge mansion, chained up to a chair somewhere in a room without windows; he had to show up on at least one security camera or someone must have filmed the whole incident and uploaded it somewhere on the internet which would be found by his still loyal minions.

 

“You still claim to be a student?” Alexei asked as the old nurse made sure there Q didn’t suffer any serious damage.

 

“I don’t know. I bumped my head rather hard and I can’t seem to remember anything.” He expected for his head to be smashed against the table and the scarred brute didn’t disappoint.

 

That didn’t make the nurse happy at all and she snapped at Alexei, throwing her hands up in the air, speaking really fast. She kept pointing at Q, grabbing his shoulder and lightly shaking him, her voice cracking a bit. Alexei responded by pulling out a gun and putting a bullet right in her forehead.

 

“So hard to find good workers these days, don’t you agree?” He tapped Q’s temple with his gun, burning his skin. “Now, how about you start playing nice, Mister Quartermaster and you save me the cost of a bullet as well as the life of the next nurse and guard I assign to you by not being a little smartass and collaborate with me?”

 

The tears came easy to Q this time, but he liked to believe that was because of his acting abilities and not because he was truly scared. “I am not a Quartermaster or whatever! I have no idea what you are talking about!”

 

Alexei started to cuss in Russian, kissing his fist. “You’re making me resort to torture, but I would lie if I said I wasn’t hoping for that to happen.” He cupped Q’s face and bit his nose, tugging on the chains around his hands and feet. “You’ll have to chew your limbs off to get out of these. Now hang tight while I get ready for the fun we’re about to have.”

 

This time, Alexei let a guard in the room with him and Q also spotted three security cameras aimed at him. But it was clear that the man didn’t want him just yet, probably wanting him to offer MI6’s secrets on a silver platter before technologically crippling the agency, so Q was still safe to attempt to escape – again, torture was right around the corner for him; Alexei couldn’t get angrier than he already was.

 

“Excuse me, but I am not feeling so well,” he announced, throwing himself on the ground and starting to convulse.

 

That had the wanted effect and the guard called for someone to come and help him, getting the chains off of him to make sure that he didn’t swallow his tongue. Q was outright crying from the pain by this point, but he still managed to steal the man’s gun and shoot him, doing the same to the other two guards that came running in.

 

In that moment, gunfire was heard coming from the floor above him and Q realized that MI6 had found him. He sighed in relief as he took a moment to push himself up, limping through the damp and dark corridor to a set of stairs – he wasn’t going to allow himself to be used as a shield against his own, afraid that they would ignore M’s order of shooting him and getting everyone caught.

 

When he pulled the door opened, a gun was shoved in his face before arms wrapped around him and pulled him to a familiar chest, James’ smell instantly flooding his senses. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re safe,” he was muttering in his ear, hugging him tightly. “They lost your signal and we were so scared. But you’re here and you’re alive.”

 

Q nuzzled James’ neck, feeling his legs go out from under him. “If the Quartermaster is kidnapped, killing him is the last resort.”

 

A bullet zipped by them, lodging itself in the chest of a large man that was sneaking up behind them, Alec throwing his empty gun at another, taking Q from James so he could deal with the other attackers.

 

Alec was kissing Q’s eyes, gently, quickly taking note of every visible wound. “We’ll string Alexei up by his own guts for this, love. He’ll regret not dying when he had the chance.”

 

There were a few small explosions coming from the outside followed by more gunfire. Alexei suddenly appeared, his face shifting from annoyance to pure joy as the pointed a gun at Q. “Had I known that Alec was extra close to the MI6 Quartermaster, I would have been extra nice to him. I would have even offered him a facial treatment.”

 

Alec turned to protect Q from the man, James trying to find the perfect opportunity to turn his gun away from the goons and point it at their boss. “We manage to make the best of friends while out on missions, right, Alec?” James asked, moving to cover what little of Q was still out in the open.

 

The man aimed his gun, intent on shooting Alec in the head, but something the doors were blown away and more MI6 agents poured in, shooting everyone they didn’t recognize. James and Alec took that opportunity to go to the lower levels, deciding that they could wait for everything to be over.

 

Alec sat on the stairs with Q on his lap, putting his jacket over his legs while James draped his around the man’s upper half, rubbing his back. Q closed his eyes and leaned against Alec’s chest as his two lovers touched every part of his body, apologizing whenever they made him flinch.

 

“He knew I had three trackers and where they were so MI6 has moles in it. Again,” Q grumbled, yawning and rubbing his face against James’ hand. “How were your missions? I know Alec’s was a complete bust, but you James had an actual one.”

 

“Everything went smoothly, but don’t worry about that, love.” James said, grabbing his hands and putting them under his shirt as he tried to warm them up. “You’ll have a cold on top of the broken lip, burn mark on your forehead, black eye…” He trailed off, moving close to kiss his forehead while Alec kissed the base of his neck.

 

Q was in an actual hospital in less than an hour, his two lovers all but terrorizing the staff in their need to be sure that he was comfortable enough and that nothing was really wrong with him. Before the day ended, he was sleeping comfortably between them on the first flight he enjoyed in his life, the airplane filled with nothing but MI6 agents.

 

When they landed, James and Alec were informed by Eve that as far as MI6 was concerned, they were considered as having gone AWOL and that Q was still missing. “Think of it as an unofficial vacation while we weed out the garden,” she finished, winking at them before ruffling Q’s hair.

 

“My agents will not be punished for this, I trust? Or anyone who helped them?” Q asked, grabbing the Eve’s hand before she could walk through the door.

 

She scratched her chin, avoid looking at him. “M was furious, but… But the other agents wouldn’t have found you if it weren’t for Alec and James especially since Alexei was preparing to ship you out of that city after you got out the first time. As for everyone else, what they did could be considered treason. They helped two rogue agents behind M’s back. Still, Mallory might turn a blind eye.”

 

That helped Q calm down a bit, although he was still sulking in the tub with his lovers, lazily blowing bubbles at Alec’s face while James rubbed his back. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden tickle attack courtesy of Alec, the whole thing degenerating into an outright water fight.

 

When they were all done, Q was putty in their hands as they carefully dried him up and got him ready for bed, falling asleep the instant his head hit the pillow, hands fisted in their shirts just to remind himself that he was home.

 

***

 

James was bothered by how Q slept. No, that was putting it wrong. He was _concerned_. Yes, that was the right word. He was concerned that Q curled in on himself between them and did not move a single millimetre all night. And when Alec got up to go to the bathroom, Q jumped out of bed and grabbed the first thing that fell into his hand, waiving it in front of him as if it were a weapon.

 

“Q. Q, everything is okay,” James said slowly, Alec freezing in his tracks. “You’re home with us, the upgraded security system is turned on and both Alec and I had our guns under our pillows. You can put the lap down.”

 

It took a second for James’ words to register, but when they did, Q looked embarrassed. “I am sorry; I think I was having a nightmare.” He rubbed his eyes and Alec guided him back to bed, waiting for James to spoon him before drawing the blankets over the both of them.

 

It wasn’t that Q was afraid. He was tensed, annoyed and upset. He spent the following morning in his home laboratory, fiddling with something with which he almost shocked Alec when the agent foolishly tried to surprise him with a hug from behind. But the thing that helped them decide that a vacation far away from England was in order was the conversation they had that same night, during diner.

 

It started pleasant enough with Alec trying to cook and ending up asking Q to kiss his burn marks while James was casually putting out the small fire, making a mental note that they needed a new fire extinguisher – yes that was considered pleasant in the ‘Trevqond’ residence and it was something that happened almost weekly.

 

And then, Alec’s voiced relief ruined everything. “I’m glad you didn’t take the cyanide pill.”

 

James froze, thinking about throwing the empty extinguisher at his head while Q slowly tilted his head and blinked like an owl. “Cyanide pill? What—oh! No, no, I do not have that. After the Silva incident, it was decided that it was unusually cruel and we took all of them out.”

 

James slammed a bunch of plates in front of Alec, elbowing him in the back. “Remember when I ended up knocking you out two days after you returned from the mission? Q had ordered for yours to be removed as well. The tooth you have is a combination between a tracking device and something that makes it seem like you’re dead.”

 

But Q’s brows were furrowed, deep in thought and neither of the agents liked that at this moment in time. “But maybe I should upgrade those. Maybe make it into a powerful explosive that activates itself when a certain level pain is reached? Hm, is that more humane?”

 

Q pushed his chair back and made to get up from the table, Alec throwing himself over the table to grab his hand. “You’ll stub your toe when you walk around naked in the house.”

 

James moved behind Q and placed his hands on his shoulders, massaging them. “Kitten, you’re still shook up. And while your ideas are generally wonderful and they make people want to create entire cults to worship you, this is a stupid one.”

 

It took a few kisses for the pout which Q would deny to having until the day he died went away, Alec having grabbed his younger lover’s feet to gently rub them. The two agents made eye contact when Q finally sighed and relaxed, nodding in agreement.

 

“Q, I think Alec told you that we own a boat which I know how to sail?” He slipped his fingers in Q’s shirt, gently scratching his chest. “How about we take it out for a ride? Dock in a nice little port on some island, check in on a fancy hotel and wait there until M calls us back in?”

 

James was preparing himself for a long and tedious discussion to convince Q, but the young genius simply smiled and nodded, dragging both of the men to their room so they could start packing. No one was surprised that Q lacked any decent summer wear, James kissing the side of his head as he promised that they’d go shopping tomorrow.

 

Q ended up buying the most colourful shirts and swimming trunks he could find and James found it impossible for him to be honest and tell him that he was a camera around his neck and a map in his hand away from looking like a tourist in Florida. Alec helped, of course. And by helped, James meant that he managed to find shirts that really shouldn’t exist in a store that considered itself to be above Costco.

 

The instant they set sail, almost all of the tension from Q’s shoulders disappeared and he was happily checking his laptop for just the right island and hotel for their vacation. “Wi-Fi is important, of course. And while I love you both, I’d like to be able to walk when we return,” he was explaining to Alec, the tips of his ear slightly red.

 

“We can send James to buy more lube if that is what you are afraid of,” Alec said, pulling Q over him, sliding his hands down his back and in his trunks.

 

James threw an empty water bottle at his head, annoyed that he couldn’t join them. “Keep that up and the only hard thing that’s going to rock this boat will be the rocks I’m going to hit because you’re distracting me.”

 

“Then drop the anchor and join us,” Q purred, kissing Alec while looking at him.

 

Stunts like that were the reason why it took them longer than usual to actually dock somewhere, Alec drawing the short stick and being stuck with checking them into the hotel while he and Q made out behind him. They had never been checked in faster in their entire lives, probably due to how Alec was fuming, growling and tapping his large hand against on the desk, scaring the hotel employee.  

 

The three were on each other almost every second of every day, the waiter – butler, Alec insisted on calling the poor man, because he only saw to their needs – blushing constantly whenever he interacted with them. Q seemingly forgot about his fear of not being able to walk properly and couldn’t be more proud of the bite marks that covered his body while the two older men were even more proud of the scratches on their backs. And yet, despite all of that, some people did not get the point.

 

The first person who might as well have been blind had her sights set on Alec. She winked at him, blew kisses in his direction and constantly tried to get him to kiss cocktails. She finally got the message when Alec pushed James up against a wall and stuck his hand down his pants. She huffed and left the party embarrassed.

 

“I would love this show even more if I was a private one,” Q’s voice came from behind them and when they turned, he was sipping on a Cosmopolitan, grinning at them.

 

James was next on the list, but in the poor woman’s defence, she had just checked in and walked out to the pool where she saw him alone – Alec had offered to help Q pick out the lunch they were supposed to be eating by the pool and they were probably taking so long because Q was trying to convince him to try something healthy for a change.

 

The woman simply plopped on the deckchair that belong to Q and started to run her hand down James’ chest. “Hmm, you have the perfect body for yoga. Do you want to join me for a session and help me stretch out?”

 

A snort came from behind them and the woman turned to glare, but James simply smiled and opened his arms, a laughing Q dropping right on top of him. “Sorry, love. Only ones I’m interested in stretching are this one right here and the one that’s glaring at the plate of fruits.” He kissed Q’s nose, rubbing his neck. “You promised to tie him up and make him watch unless he cleaned that plate, didn’t you?”

 

“For his own good,” Q said seriously and the woman stuttered through an apology before she ran back inside the hotel. “Hmm, think I should make you two wear those shirts that say ‘If lost, return to Q’ and whatnot just to keep everyone away from you.”

 

“Rings work even better.” This had been a strange thought that wormed its way in James’ mind during his latest mission, when he ended up hugging a crying man no older than Q because he felt that his partner was just using him and didn’t really care for him – which had been the case and James felt quite good shooting him in the knees.

 

Q tapped his nose, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Too much time out in the sun, _old man_? Do I need to take you to their version of medical?” he teased, running his hand through the sulking Alec’s hair.

 

“Only medical you’ll get me to go right now is the one where you’re the nurse whose outfit is a little headband and Alec is the doctor who shows me what he plans on doing to me on you.” He licked Q’s neck, sucking lightly on his Adam’s apple until he got a moan out of him.

 

Meanwhile, Alec had abandoned his plate in favour of nibbling on Q’s fingers and somehow, the three of them managed to get to their rooms before they got thrown out of too much indecent exposure.

 

They watched the sun setting with Q sprawled on top of them, fighting to keep his eyes open, their fingers awkwardly entwined. This was pure heaven, James mused. No one after them, all content and spent, enjoying life without the fear of tomorrow.

 

“Not on your fingers,” Q said suddenly, breaking the pleasant silence. “The rings I mean. Well, you were probably joking, but if you had ring marks on your fingers, you’d have a harder time during missions. On a chain around your neck, however… Much easier to get targets into your bed if you weave a story of a lost love.”

 

James flinched when Alec sank his teeth into his arm, the man pulling Q off of him and trapping him under himself. “You proposed without me? You’re dead to me James. Now I am left all alone to take care of our kitten and I’ll have to double everything.” Alec gathered Q in his arms and ran back inside, locking James outside.

 

The third person was a shy, petite, young woman whose eye had been caught by Q while they were on a trip. It didn’t look like she was going to do anything until her friends _accidentally_ pushed her in Q’s lap. She instantly jumped up and started to apologize, bumping their heads together when Q tried to make sure that she really was okay.

 

Now, the two would have made a cute couple, however…”I’m already taken,” Q finished James thought out loud, turning to smile fondly at them.

 

The poor woman turned red and her friends instantly started to apologize. But Q, nice Q, took her hand in his and patted it, whispering something in her ear which had her turn to look at a tall man with blond hair who was suddenly looking in another direction.

 

“Now that, he definitely got from Eve,” James said, Alec nodding in agreement.

 

But the person that really got under their skins and had the two agents seriously thinking if they could use their licence to kill was the fourth, and last, person. The man had checked on the same day as them and he made his move in one of the rare moments in which Q was alone by the side of the pool – Alec had gone to the order their lunch and James ran up to their room to bring Q his laptop charger.

 

When James returned, Q looked beyond annoyed as he man described his yacht and apparent island he owned. “I’m really not interested,” Q interrupted and made to get up, only to be pulled back down on the deckchair.

 

“Look, I can pay way more than they, I assure you.” James instinctively reached for the gun he didn’t have on him.

 

But Q moved faster and threw the glass of martini at his face, slapping him. “I am not a rent boy, you simpleton. And if you dare open your mouth again and try to cheapen the relationship I am in, I will make it so that you won’t even be able to afford walking by simply touching a button.”

 

The man seriously had no sense of self preservation and the instant he tried wrapping an arm around Q, he ended up in the pool. By this point, James was sitting right behind Q, cracking his knuckles while Alec was making a beeline for them, wearing a bathrobe, their ‘butler’ trailing behind them with his head held down.

 

“No need for that, loves.” Q said as he sat down on the deckchair, thanking James for the charger before his laptop came back to life. “I think this _gentleman_ is going to cut his vacation short because his stocks suddenly took a nose dive.”

 

“ _What?”_

 

When Q showed him his laptop, the man teleported from the pool, already shouting on his phone while a hotel employee was trying to get his attention for long enough to inform him that he had to cut his credit card in half.

 

“Can’t I at least shoot him in the hand that almost touched you?” Alec asked, throwing his bathroom with the gun hidden in it at the shaking ‘butler’.

 

“Do that and we’ll leave you on the island,” Q warned. “And I think our waiter—“

 

“Butler!”

 

“…our _waiter_ needs a really big tip since we are really needy customers,” Q continued. “And Alec, I think you lost your swimming trunks somewhere.”

 

Surprisingly enough, that didn’t get them thrown out of the hotel, the trio getting to pretend that nothing and no one else existed in the universe besides them for one more week before Eve sadly had to call them back to England.

 

Everyone complimented Q on his tan, but the young man was happier with the two, platinum rings, wearing them proudly. James and Alec were proud of their new chains, which they showed off to the little mole that turned out to be the boffin-turned-IT right before knocking the air out of him.

 

“We would kill you,” Alec started as he pulled the man up and smashed his head against the bolted down table.

 

“But the sofa is too uncomfortable if we’re banished on it,” James finished, slamming the chair over the man’s fingers.

 

Their phones started to ring at the same time and they slowly turned to the security camera, awkwardly waving at it before James answered his. “ _If you get that thing’s blood on your new shirt, I will make you wear one of my holyday ones for an entire week. And if Alec ruins his only decent suit, I will lock him out of all his games for that same amount of time.”_


	4. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that being a double oh agent doesn't also automatically make you a good self-defence teacher. Q's minions take it personally when they think the two agents broke their beloved overlord's arm on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darling thundernight requested Q getting hurt when James and Alec tried to teach him how to defend himself.

Q was am expert when it came to protecting himself, as long as he had access to his trusty and nifty gadgets. But James and Alec worried that the man might somehow find himself in a situation in which he was cut off from his wonderful, technologically advanced ‘babies’ and needing to call upon his self-defence knowledge which he completely lacked.

 

And then there was the recently discovered fact that Q was practically blind if he lost his glasses. He saw vague outlines of the things in front of him and, if the person didn’t say a word but he was someone he knew, he would recognize them after the smell of whatever perfume or aftershave they had on. Of course that was useless if an attacker sneaked suddenly grabbed him and smashed his face against the ground.

 

“The one time I was attacked doesn’t really count because that ambush took even Alec by surprise,” Q was saying in a dry voice, furiously typing on his laptop and doing his best to ignore the two set of hands which were trying to ease him out of his clothes. “You won’t change my mind about this no matter what you do.”

 

James and Alec glanced at each other, brows knitted in worry. Their lover was the definition of stubborn and if he thought he was right about something, unless presented with hard evidence, almost no one could change his mind. And while they usually found that extremely hot and loved to see him destroy whoever dared to imply that he in the wrong, today was not the case.

 

“Q, we’re just worried about you,” James whispered, trailing kisses up his neck, suckling lightly on his earlobe.

 

“We just want to be sure that you can protect yourself even in the case that’s the most unlikely to happen,” Alec added, managing to push the laptop out of Q’s hands so he could plop his head on his lap and start to make little circles around his bellybutton through his shirt.

 

Q stood still for a moment, lips set in a thin line, deep frown on his face. And then he sighed and slumped forward, one hand against James’s neck and the other on Alec’s forehead. “If it would get the two of you to let me finish this in peace and keeps Alec from abusing both Paint and Power Point to show me what might happen, fine.”

 

Alec sat up, pouting. “What’s wrong with my artistic skill? Eve said I could become an artist.”

 

“A poor and blind man’s Picasso, maybe.” James joked, biting Q’s shoulder before hopping out of bed and pulling Q with him. “You’ll thank us for this, love, I promise. And afterwards, we’ll give you a thorough massage to help you relax.”

 

Q hummed and leaned against James, unzipping his pants. “Or, we could skip the self-defence class and just get straight to the massage.” He started to nibble gently on his lover’s lower lip, slipping his fingers in his pants. “What do you say about that plan?”

 

But it was Alec who brought an end to the temptation of James, sneaking up behind Q and grabbing his hands, pulling him flush against his body and starting to nuzzle his neck. “You’d be a great honey trap, love. But this time, you won’t manage to distract us so easily.”

 

Q rubbed against Alec, leaning his head back so he could nibble on his ear. “Are you sure about that, agent? If you two are so dead set on teaching me something useful, then why not how to distract my would-be kidnappers with just a look or a facial expression? I don’t think I’ll get it right from the first time, so you two can punish this horrible student.”

 

It was supposed to get them to forget about everything and end with the three of them rolling in bed. But just thinking about their lover giving bedroom eyes to anyone, especially to someone who might have snatched him in order to ensure the safety of MI6 and himself, made them want to rip to shred anyone who even glanced for too long in Q’s direction.

 

“We will most definitely not!” Alec growled, James letting out a similar noise and, despite his obvious problem in the lower region, pulled himself from Q.

 

“You’ll learn how to defend yourself without your gadgets so that you will never have to get in a situation in which you’ll have to… present yourself in a manner that might shut off their brains.” James felt sick to his stomach just saying that and Q felt bad which turned to horrible when he saw how pale Alec was.

 

He hadn’t meant to make them upset. He had simply tried to do what his lovers did, analyse the situation and make it pleasant for everyone involved by making it into a game. They were always successful when it came to that while he usually just came outright and said he wanted to have sex or simply let his clothes to pool on the ground around him and rest his hands on his hips.

 

Actually, it was due to his bluntness and lack of finesse when it came to things like this that they got together. It wasn’t that he had never had intercourse or an actual relationship in his life. It had more to do with the fact that his partners always got fed up with him focusing more on gadgets than on them and when he did date people from his own field, they seemed to consider him a stuck up. That had hurt the first two times it happened, but by the third time, Q was used with the idea.

 

James and Alec started to show interest in him in a romantically way three months after he had become the Quartermaster. They were always near him, flirted furiously with him when they were on the coms, bringing him all sort of things they somehow found he liked, always found some dust that needed to be dusted off his shirt or pants – Alec especially had a keen eye when it came to detecting specks on the latter piece of clothing – and somehow always knew when he left for home or work and they were there to offer him a ride.

 

Q though they wanted something big from him despite the fact that the men always outright asked for his help, but R informed him that the two double oh agents had made it clear to all of Q branch and the double oh section that it wasn’t gadgets they wanted for him.

 

He thought it over and decided to go for the direct approach. “I can do a one night stand as long as neither of you gets jealous on the other or think that I want to drive a wedge between you two.”

 

The two ended up perfectly imitating owls for about five minutes, James being the one who recovered first. “I’m not sure I’m following, Q. You say you want to sleep with us?”

 

Q clicked his tongue and tilted his head. Maybe R had gotten it wrong and he had just ruined a perfectly abnormal friendship. “I might decide to blame everything on a possible lack of sleep if you two are not—“

 

“No, no, we are!” Alec jumped in, throwing an arm around Q. “But, we were kind of thinking about a little more than one night.” When he saw Q’s lips starting to form the word ‘two’, he poked his side, finding out that he tickled. “No, computer whizz; a relationship.”

 

The awkward okay he muttered while scratching his neck which was followed by a long dinner was what led to Q today thinking that perhaps he should google ‘How to do a sex game without making your over-protective lovers who also happen to be trained assassins think of the worst case scenarios in a real situation’ before taking another shot at this.

 

“I’ll just save my progress while you two go turn the living room into a gym of sorts,” he conceded, rolling his eyes. They were lucky he loved them so much that he could ignore his project for them.

 

Two bright smiles, kisses on his neck and he was left alone, rubbing his head when he heard the furniture being dragged around and two—no, three, things crashing. Really, by this point, he should simply give up owning anything that was made out of glass. Or just stuff the second closed full of replacements.

 

“Q, we’re ready when you are!” Alec shouted, probably extending his arms and knocking something because Q heard whatever it was shatter. “N-never mind. Just give us five more minutes.”

 

“Bloody hell, Alec,” Q heard James growling and imagined the man outright throwing the broom at his head. “I’ll move the really fragile things in the kitchen, TV included, while you clean up the shards.”

 

There were times when it was really hard to believe that the two men were the best that MI6 had to offer - such as right now, when they were both rolling around the carpet to be sure that they hadn’t missed any shards - or that Q was the best Quartermaster in the agency’s history - again now, because he was hitting-that-was-actually-patting the two men with a broom, yelling at them that he didn’t want them to get hurt and why the bloody hell aren’t they using the Roombas he upgraded?

 

Both agents grabbed Q’s broom and ripped it out of his hands, James swinging his legs under the younger man’s and Alec caught him before he hit the ground. He wrestled Q under him and pinned his hands above his head, moving slightly away to allow James to poke his ribs, tickling Q.

 

“I already agreed to being taught how to defend myself, so you can stop this,” Q wheezed out, trying to curl in on himself. “I double they’d tickle me, really.”

 

James jumped up and pulled Q after him, ruffling his hair and arranging his glasses. “You’ll have to stop us from tickling you by using the moves we’ll teach you. Alec and I will show you how everything is supposed to go first and then we’ll slowly go through every move.”

 

Find a slow enough pace so that all of their moves could be followed Q ended up being harder than expected, both men slipping in their agent persona and fighting back to defend themselves for real. Alec was thrown against the wall twice and James once, Q eventually slipping into the bathroom unnoticed to bring the first aid kit in case one of his two lovers managed to draw blood.

 

“This would be easier for all of us if we’d do this at MI6, an actual trainer in the same room as us.” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them to teach him this – God knew he trusted them with everything – but he still had a bad feeling about it.

 

“Waste of time, Q. Now, just keep your hands in the position we showed you and you’ll be able to stop us,” Alec assured him, patting his back and kissing his neck. “You’ll make your boffins even surer of your God status when you show them this tomorrow.”

 

Of course Q ended up being too slow and by the time James realized that, his lover was on the other side of the room, screaming in pain and cradling his right arm while blood was running down his face. James sat complexly frozen while Alec panicked and didn’t know what to do first, grabbing Q’s injured arm by accident and making him scream even louder before finally figuring out how to carry him in his arms without hurting him.

 

When they finally managed to gather their wits about them and Q had taken to biting Alec’s shoulder to keep himself from crying out loud anymore, it was decided that they should go to a regular emergency room because it was faster than going to MI6 and they were fearing that Q would manage to bleed to death - because, yes, seeing their lover hurt and knowing that it was their fault, made them forget all the knew about first aid and how to patch people up especially since Q kept flinching every time they tried to touch him.

 

The doctors instantly took Q away from Alec, stopping the two men when they tried to follow him into the emergency room. Everyone was acting really strange around them, one of the nurses pinning them with her stare as she was talking on the phone. When two police officers showed up out of nowhere, James and Alec knew what was happening even before the woman pointed at them.

 

“If I hit them for thinking that, it won’t help our case, will it?” Alec whispered, cracking his knuckles.

 

James grabbed his hands, squeezing them to make him stop when he noticed the way the officers were looking at him. “It will probably end with us in handcuffs and after Eve bails us out because Q will be too upset, he’ll make us sleep on the welcome mat. And that’s if he doesn’t go back to his apartment.”

 

But the police officers never really got to ask the two any question, Q’s shout causing them to literally break down the door. Alec instantly went for the doctor who, to him, appeared to be looming over Q with clear intent of hurting him by using the giant syringe he had in his hand. James, meanwhile, covered Q with his body, practically growling at the nurse who had yelped and jumped on the other side of the room.

 

“Five stitches so close to the eye are painful, sirs. I assure you that it is not I who hurt him and that the painkiller that I have just given him will make everything okay.” The man still managed to sound sure of himself despite the fact that he was shaking like a leaf. “Now please leave the room on your own and let me treat my patient in peace before I have you forcefully removed from here.”

 

“He didn’t hurt me on purpose, loves. It’s okay,” Q whimpered, flinching when he accidentally touched his own arm. “I know they can be overwhelming to have around, especially if I’m hurt, but can they please stay with me when you reset my arm?”

 

The doctor looked with complete disdain at the two, trying to figure out why the man wanted his possible attackers there with him. Maybe they had him trained so well that he didn’t dare to do anything without their approval? “Are their tempers always so short? Do they start to push if you take too long to go down the stairs? Do they shout or growl if people are too slow or if you don’t do what they say?” He asked in barely a whisper, sitting as close to the young man as possible.

 

The painkillers started to kick in which jumbled up all of his thoughts, but his hazy mind still found the question odd. He turned his head after his lovers, just to be sure that they were still there and giggled when Alec waved at him and James winked. “The traffic laws get on their nerves, especially if it’s been a long time since we saw each other. But when it comes to me, they’re always so patient, always so calm and if I’m too slow on the stairs, they pick me up and carry me around.”

 

Alec elbowed James. “See? My artistic persona rubbed off on him. Great rhyme, love.” He gave Q both thumbs up and James just chuckled. “Now set his arm in the painless way possible or I’ll—Ugh!”

 

“What my partner is trying to say,” James intervened after elbowing Alec, “is that we’d like you to make the whole process as painless as possible so we can all go home and sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”

 

Q still screamed and both men were by his side instantly, pushing the hair out of his eyes and covering his face in kisses, assuring him that everything would be okay. They were so caring and careful that the doctor started to have second thoughts and, after the two explained to the police officers how the whole thing happened – which was an almost exact retelling of what his patient had said, only sprinkled with honest guilt and apologizes directed at the young man – he was sure he had been completely wrong.

 

“Next time, take the young man to special classes taught by actual professionals.” He shook his head when he saw them open their mouths, raising his hands to keep them quiet. “I understand that both of you have background in military and the navy, but you are holding the results of that in your arms.”

 

Despite having his arm immobilized in a cast and a quarter of his face bandaged, Q looked happy, sighing in content and nuzzling James’ chest in his sleep. That only made them feel even more horrible, especially since they insisted and nagged Q into doing this, sure that they wouldn’t hurt him for real.

 

They were extra careful on their way home and, after tucking Q in bed, listened without making as much as peep to M as she chewed them for their stupidity over the phone. “I only thought that I was supposed to worry about wayward agents hurting MI6 superiors. But apparently, I should start taking into account brain dead, love struck fools who forget that their bloody Quartermaster is a twig who can easily be broken in half. He learned to keep away from really high trees after his third tumble out of one, but I doubt he’ll stop climbing the pair of you.”

 

That was a very odd thing to say, no doubt a slip of M’s part. And of course, James really couldn’t help himself. “I am sorry, madam, but would you mind repeating the last part again? I don’t think we heard you right.”

 

She sighed. “I want him to get checked over by MI6 doctors. And do honour my humble office with your presence after that because I am not done with the two of you.”

 

***

 

Their new morning routine was something the two agents greatly enjoyed until they realized that, with every little thing they did for Q, the young man grew more frustrated. The things he enjoyed, they were already doing, such as showering, James shaving him and Alec more or less feeding him breakfast because he was usually completely engrossed in a code or new program. But when they dressed him because he couldn’t? Or tied his shoelaces because it required two hands?

 

He couldn’t even get the contact lenses in his eyes and by the time they managed to do that, Q’s eyes were irritated. They kept apologizing and placing soft kisses over his eyelid, promising to get him a monocle – a fancy one, Alec promised; one worthy of sitting on Q’s face.

 

Q snorted and shook his head, not agreeing or disagreeing with the whole thing. He was too busy trying to pretend like he wasn’t bothered by how useless he felt, aware that his lovers were already feeling horrible for everything. When he thought they were out of hearing range, he sighed and made little noises of disappointment directed at his own body. He promised himself that he would either drink more milk when the whole cast ordeal was over or somehow find a way to replace his papier-mâché bones with stainless steel ones.

 

“Q, whatever you’re cooking up in your brilliant mind, please let me remind you that it was our fault. So scrap any plans of turning yourself into a cyborg and maybe replace them with punishments for us?” James soft voice cut through the heavy silence in the car, fighting to not take his eyes from the road to look at him. The last thing they needed was an accident that would end up with Q in even more pain.

 

Q’s entire face lit up. “A cyborg, of course! That way, I’ll never be compromised because I could always transfer my consciousness to the MI6 servers and—” Alec stopped that terrifying train of thoughts with a short kiss, brushing Q’s lips with his thumb. “But I won’t be able to feel that or anything else, so maybe it is not such a good idea.”

 

A medical team was waiting from them in the parking lot alongside Eve and they quickly whisked Q away while the woman marched the two double ohs in M’s office, giving them a little preview of the scolding they were about to receive.

 

Q got his cast changed with one that used ultrasounds to heal bones faster and he was quite happy, especially since he had also gotten rid of the itch that was slowly starting to drive him mad. He even silently admitted to himself that it looked cooler and thought about using its robotic appearance to play a prank of sorts on his lovers, claim that he decided to have his entire arm switched in favour of a mechanical one because he couldn’t wait to use a keyboard again.

 

When he stepped out of Medical, half of his branch was there, looking worriedly at him with wide eyes and he was sure that at least three of them were blowing their noses in napkins and trying to cry silently.

 

“I’m not dead. James simply broke my arm,” shocked gasps and stifled sniffs, “but the doctor said I can still run low level missions until the bone is healed. I am afraid you can’t sign it, if that’s why you were all gathered here.”

 

R stepped closer to him and rested her hand on his back, gently guiding him back to his branch. “Don’t worry boss, we’ll hold down the fort until you are better. And we’ll make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.” There was a definitive tone in her voice that sent little shivers down Q’s spine, but he was distracted from that when he was presented with an incomplete code which he instantly started to dictate.

 

***

 

It was very disconcerting to enter a room only to have it suddenly go silent as every head turned in your direction, glaring daggers and promises of torture at you. They had expected Q’s minions to give them the cold shoulder for the accident, but everything seemed to be too intense, especially since the murderous intent that was radiating from most of the boffins felt real.

 

They had even formed a wall between them and Q’s office and they were sure the only reason that the silent boffins broke formation was because their beloved overlord called out to James and Alec, asking one of them to bring him his tea mug because his throat was starting to hurt from talking so much.

 

“Your minions are acting strange,” James muttered as he closed the door behind them, finally blocking out the accusatory stares that seemed to only be missing an ominous choir belching out something in Latin to make the horror movie setting complete.

 

“I have noticed that. Maybe they are worried that I am unfit to be the Quartermaster because of my hand,” Q muttered between small sips of tea, slightly raising his wounded arm. “But if I finish this code, I am sure everyone will calm down and things will go back to normal.”

 

It was then that the two agents noticed the new, high-tech cast and while Alec waited for Q to not to trace the plastic around his arm, James fondly ruffled Q’s hair. “That’s going to make the doctor from the ER and pretty much everyone with a broken limb very jealous. This is the new 3D cast with ultrasounds, right?”

 

Q’s eyes narrowed, trying to hide his pout behind his cup. “I keep forgetting that, despite your inability to bring back gadgets in one piece, you are okay in the technological department.”

 

Alec looked up and poked Q’s nose, caressing the side of the face that wasn’t wounded. “You talked about this thing seven months ago, when I had my hand stuck in that vending machine at the airport after the mission. I was complaining that I might end up with a broken hand and you said in a dry voice that I needn’t worry because there was a new thing that could heal if in time for my next mission.”

 

Their kiss was interrupted by R suddenly opening the door, asking if Alec could find it in himself to tear himself away and help her test a few prototypes. “Everyone else is busy actually doing something and I really need your help.” The acid was clear in her voice, although Q seemed to completely miss it, distracted by James who had swooped in to kiss him in place of Alec.

 

Not even thirty minutes later and James was the one being called away by another boffin, this time claiming that they needed him to test drive a car. When Q said that he wanted to check on Alec and also see the car he had no idea they were developing, yet another boffin showed up and presented him with another piece of broken code, claiming that it went way above their knowledge.

 

“I refuse to believe that you’re telling the truth. This is almost basic coding compared with what I am having you do on a daily basis.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “I do not know what’s going on with you. Pull up a chair and we’ll get through this together.”

 

Darling, caring Q. Treating his boffins like his children if they were messing up in situations that weren’t life threatening – but God have mercy on them if they did that when an agent was in the field because Q had sent quite a few of them home, in tears after which he enrolled them in computer classes.

 

But this time, something was really off, which became even more apparent when James realized that he was being led away from the only place in which an experimental car could be safely housed, tested and improved.

 

“What’s going on?” James asked suddenly, stopping a few steps behind the boffin. “Are you all turning traitors? Why are you doing this to Q? Where is Alec? And on whose payroll are you on?” He was slowly reaching for his weapon. He wouldn’t kill them, he promised himself. Just shoot their knees and break their arms for daring to do this to his Q.

 

The boffin was visibly shaking, face pale. “W-we’re not the ones who did anything bad to the Quartermaster. We’d never…How can you…” He took a few deep breaths, getting his body under control. “We’re doing this to protect him from you and your partner!”

 

James felt something being pushed against his back and he turned around to catch a glimpse of R before a lot of volts travelled through his body, causing him to pass out. He was awoke by Alec rubbing his knuckles with his thumbs and he realized that they were tied up and stuffed in the service room they’d sneak in with Q when they simply couldn’t wait to get home.

 

R was also there, surrounded by Q’s most trusted minions, pacing back and forward. "I don’t know what to do with them. We obviously can’t kill them and I don’t think Q would agree with making an official complaint against the two of them.” Why would she want Q do make a formal complain? And about what?

 

“ _You hurt Q_ ,” Alec ‘said’ against his hand, using Morse code. “ _They think on purpose. I helped, according to them. Q too scared of us to do anything. They want to save him_.”

 

The second James read that, he started to struggle for real, drawing the attention of the boffins before Alec could inform him that he had freed his hands just a minute ago and had texted Q. He was going get out of their silly, weak ties and hit all of them over their heads to see if he heard an echo coming from their empty heads or not.

 

All the boffins took a step back, hiding behind R who was holding on tighter to the Taser she had pointed right at James’ chest. “We made sure you two were properly tied so you can stop struggling, 007.” She was so confident and sure of herself that the two agents had a hard time not simply raising their hands and slowly clapping probably right before James grabbing her and shaking her all the while explaining to her in his deadliest voice possible that he would never ever willingly and knowingly hurt Q.

 

“And might I know why you made sure of that, R?” Q’s cold voice cut through like a sharp knife, the boffins all jumping in front of him as if they could actually hide the two agents from him at this point. “I am waiting for an explanation and it better be a bloody good one, because from where I am standing, things do not look good for either one of you.”

 

Again, it was R the one who took the floor, carefully taking the young man’s unbroken hand in hers and squeezing it lightly. “Q, I know you said you were horrible at relationships–”

 

“What does something as personal as that have to do with two double oh agents who are off duty, being tied up in a service closet?” He interrupted her, pushing past the defensive wall of boffins to check and be sure that his lovers were okay. “And, not that it’s anybody’s business, I am getting better at it,” he mumbled the last part, crossing his hands over his chest.

 

“It is not okay to stay with someone who breaks your arm and who almost pokes your eye out!” She screamed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “We all knew they were unstable, but ever since they got with you, it seemed that they were normal. We never thought they would cause you harm.”

 

“By mistake. They were trying to teach me how to defend myself.” He smiled when James took his good hand and kissed it, Alec resting his head against his hip. “Not their best idea, but no one can ever accuse them of being able to come up with one. Those accusations also stop when it comes to them harming me and you should know that because you were manning the coms when one of MI6’s enemies had the misguided idea of pointing a gun at me.”

 

R started to rub the back of her neck, embarrassed. “I assumed the worse and I am sure that a simple apology will not make up for anything. But Q, we were all really worried.”

 

Q sighed. Everything was touching and disturbing at the same time. Then again, they were all more than simple hackers, working in an environment where trust, although implied, coveted worse than immortality and more than welcomed, was easily lost. “And that is the reason why I will not have any of you punished.”

 

“And why we won’t actively try to rip you limb from limb,” James cut it, enjoying that his just the sound of his voice made the boffins take another step back. “Also, for future reference, assassins tied to chairs that have wheels on them plus a room that has all sort of sharp objects that are easily reached equals dead boffins.”

 

Q’s smile turned sinister, his lips pulling back to show his white teeth, his eyes narrowed and the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. “Oh, don’t worry James. I will make sure they’ll attend the special classes you two will teach.” He sat on Alec’s lap with a little bit too much force, knocking the wind out of him, stuffing the makeshift gag back in James’ mouth to keep him from protesting. “No, no, my two fierce defenders. Since you two wanted to be teachers, this is for the best.”

 

Realizing the danger they were in, Q’s minions slowly started to back up towards the door, panicking when they found it locked. Maybe they should start to worry about the two agents in the relationship and not Q who was pure evil wrapped up in innocence.

 

And just to prove how sneaky he was, Q wiggled the card that had the ability to lock down any and every room. “Rude to try to leave when your superior is talking. I am saddened to think that you’ll also need classes about that. They will be taught by…” He tapped his lips, pretending to have a hard time deciding. “Tanner.” They had seen that coming from a mile away.

 

“Of course, Quartermaster. Anything you say, Quartermaster,” the boffins said at the same time, heads hanged in shame and defeat.

 

 

Apparently satisfied, Q walked to the door and unlocked it. “Oh, one more thing. I am not so sure that our web filters are working properly so _all of you_ will spend the next week _personally_ checking every site accessed by any MI6 employee in this building as soon as it is loaded.”

 

When the boffins looked behind Q, silently asking the two agents for some kind of help, they found the men looking at their lover with total admiration, adoration and need. Which meant that, unless they wanted a worse punishment than what they had just received on top of an image of their Overlord getting snugged out of his clothing, this was their exist cue.

 

“We’ll get right to that, Quartermaster,” R threw over her shoulder, quickly vacating the room. As soon as she sighed and started to slide down the door, a moan mixed with a tiny yelp had her bolt down the hallway, way in front of the other boffins who were tripping over their own feet in an attempt to put as much distance between the sudden love nest and their ears.

 

It was clear that Q didn’t need protection from his agents. He had them wrapped around his fingers, ready to do his bidding and R was seriously debating praying for the morons who would be stupid and unfortunate enough to harm Q. Or maybe she should fear for those who might hurt the agents? Come to think about it, everyone who had even touched a hair on their head in a wrong way ended up badly hurt in the strangest accidents involving the machinery around their jail cells.


	5. Heat Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Our trio is forced to put up with a persistent heat wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely thundernight asked for our trio dealing with a heat wave.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments :) 
> 
> Please enjoy~

Q hated heat. Well, not just any type of heat; extreme heat aka just the type of heat London was currently getting. But his hatred of it was for a good reason, not just the fact that he had to take more showers and wash his clothes more frequently. He got lightheaded, woke up dizzy and easily irritated if the temperatures were too high for more than two days. He didn’t actually drown in sweat, which was good, but it didn’t really comfort him when he was clutching tightly to a chair or the edge of his desk, waiting for his dizzy spell to go away.

 

“Bloody hell, this is England, not the freaking Sahara desert!” He snapped, tossing the remote at the TV when the weather report finished announcing at least three more days of the hell-like temperatures. “It’s supposed to be overcast and chilly, not sunny and boiling hot!”

 

And that was one of the many reasons why you couldn’t actually find air-conditioning in any of the buses, taxies, subways or trains that travelled internally. And not to mention the malls, who were only marginally more bearable due to their huge ventilation systems. The cold section in the stores was crowded, so much so that the shopkeepers imposed a law which stated that one person couldn’t sit in one spot for more than one minute and in that section for more than a total of five.

 

Air-conditioning machines for personal use were virtually non-existent and Q knew that because he had personally mailed all the major stores and even the small ones, asking if they had some – okay, so he actually types the e-mail only once and then used a nifty program that had taken him less than ten minutes to code to send it to everyone at the simple click of a button.

 

He ended up ordering five such machines from Germany, but delivery would take at least one week and because he was an MI6 superior, they would be checked for any explosive of any kind or listening devices by technicians for one entire day.

 

“At least James is in China where the temperatures are surprisingly decent and I’m packing you and sending you out of this hell hole tonight,” he called out, smiling fondly at the only picture in the apartment of himself and his two lowers, Q between the two older men, shyly looking at the camera, clutching his Q mug while they were smiled proudly, hands thrown around Q’s middle.

 

Alec, his lover who hated heat for the simple fact that he had spent his childhood in Russia and loved winter almost as much as he did him and James, popped out of the kitchen with a tray of freshly made ice cubes. “I wish you’d be one of the gadgets I have to take with me, love. I saw the weather in Germany is simply dreadful.”

 

Q moaned and shivered, stretching himself on the large sofa when he felt Alec starting to rub two ice cubes on his back. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff that I like love. Don’t stop until they’re completely melted.”

 

“I’ll even lick the water off your back and save a couple of trees by not using napkins,” Alec joked, slipping an ice cube in Q’s shorts. “You should really only wear your birthday suit around the house, moj dorogoj. Even during winter, since you know how good our heating system is.”

 

Q moved to look at his lover, smirking as he drank in the sight of the naked man. He knew Alec’s body by heart, as he did James’ and he loved each and every one of their marks and scars. He had spent countless hours tracing them and kissing them, some so deep that they could even hold a little bit of liquid and the two loved to have Q lap the alcohol out of them, a strange king that soothed them and ensured them that Q did not find them disgusting.

 

“Q, we still have quite a few good hours before we have to go to MI6 and by pure coincidence, our tub is filled with water that’s just the right temperature.” Alec’s hand slipped further down Q’s body, pulling his shorts off. He squeezed his ass before leaning in and biting his right cheek, lightly slapping him.

 

“Alec, we only have forty-five minutes. We had a few hours before we rolled around in the tub the first time,” Q whined, grabbing the ice tray and dumping it on his lap. “Now go get dressed while I pack a little bag because I plan on sleeping in the server room until you or James come back or the AC gets installed.”

 

Alec glanced at the clock, cussing in Russian. “Moy miliy angel, I will rob the world if you need funds to invent a machine that stops time.” He pouted only because he loved it when Q plopped in his lap, heat or no heat, to kiss it away.

 

Q chuckled, tracing Alec’s scar. “I can assure you that money will not get in my way if I do find the right mathematical equation for that. Now go get dressed already; it’s midday and the traffic is too horrible for you to be able to drive like the maniac and get us to headquarters in fifteen minutes tops.”

 

At least Alec’s car had AC and Q had tinkered with it to make it better, stronger. That made the trip bearable despite the fact that they had been stuck at a single traffic light for ten minutes, Alec hitting his head against the driving wheel until Q stuck his hand down his pants and gave his flaccid member a light squeeze.

 

“I said we didn’t have time for you to fuck me into the tub; I didn’t say anything about making sure that you’ll remember my touch when whatever floozy your mail goal is married with goes down on you.”

 

It was a good thing that Q had packed an extra pair of pants for his lover – no underwear because he claimed to be deadly allergic to them just because it made Q laugh and James pinch his ass to claim that an extra layer of cloth would have lessened the pain. Actually, if either of his lovers were in a hurry to get to MI6 because they were being sent out on long term missions, their clothes always got ruined – be it from a quickie in the parking lot, a blowjob or a good rub down.

 

They were all afraid that one day, they really would kiss and touch for the last time and that fear became evident every time the agents left to do their jobs. Q knew he was good at what he was doing and that the gadgets he created were top of the line, but when it came to his lovers, he couldn’t help but be a bit paranoid. Especially after the Silva incident.

 

“Zvezda moya, you’re spacing out again,” Alec’s worried voice brought Q out of that dark and terrifying world his mind always got lost in when he was left alone, large hand that killed so many gently squeezing his shoulder. “Is it because of the heat? Do you want R to bring in more fans? R! R get maintenance here this instant!”

 

Q gently poked his side, instantly getting his attention. “I’m okay, leave the poor woman alone. She was with James on the coms all night long and he was testy because his mission will run for at least one more week.” He leaned his head in Alec’s hand, offering him one of his rare smiles while at work. “Medical is only a room away, so stop worrying about me and start focusing on your mission.”

 

Alec gave Q a little peck, the minion who made the grave mistake of entering the room at that second yelping and slamming the door shut. Everyone knew better than to bother any of the deadly trio when they were openly showing their affections they had for each other at work, extra careful if it happened in Medical. Q would send the poor minion a box of sweets later, after he was done with Alec.

 

“Don’t be silly, Quartermaster. Ty vsegda v moikh meeslyah,” he whispered, carefully pulling Q closer to him to give him their customary goodbye kiss.

 

“Just as you are on mine, bábnik.” He stuck his tongue out at Alec and moved around his desk. “Oh, could it be that the word means something else besides wolf?” He asked in a dry voice, green eyes shimmering with mischief. “Silly me, I think I need more private Russian lessons if that is the case.”

 

Alec grinned at him, hands in his pockets. “I am afraid that you will soon no longer need me to help you with that, since you are already starting to make puns and everything.” He deflated when he heard M ordering him to get moving or risk losing his flight in his earwig, already thinking about crushing it.

 

“Do try to do your best and bring at least the earwig back in one piece,” Q said in his quartermaster voice, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Because if you don’t try at least that, this time I really will ask Miss Moneypenny to convince Accounting to duck every single piece of broken equipment from your pay.”

 

***

 

The second he stepped off the plane, James understood why Q sounded so weak over the coms. He felt like he had walked in hell and he was seriously thinking about ripping off his suit and drive in his underwear – he didn’t, of course, because he didn’t want to be arrested for indecent exposure and end up sleeping on the sofa after that.

 

He smiled when he saw that Q was waiting for him, his heart filling his joy. He remembered a time when he had nothing to come back to from his missions, no Alec, no Q, just an empty apartment that was filled with boxes of his supposedly personal items.

 

“Love, you look like you are one degree away from turning into liquid,” he greeted Q, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

 

“Yeah, well… Wait until ten minutes pass and get back to me on that, James. I feel as if I have died and got sent to hell and Satan forgot to inform me about it,” Q grumbled, pushing James away and starting to use the magazine he had as a fan. “I’m all sweaty and sticky; don’t hug me.”

 

James chuckled, easily tugging lose Q’s tie and pocketing it. “I did way more than hug you where you were like that, love.” He removed his jacket as well and opened the first two buttons on his shirt, resting his cold bottle of water against his neck. “Maybe next time don’t dress up when you’re picking me up? I know you own at least one pair of short pants and Alec and I bought you a lot of t-shirts you could wear.”

 

Q practically purred at the cold recipient, grabbing it with both of his hands and starting to rub his face against it, giving James all sorts of ideas that made him feel hotter. “I had a meeting with other department heads before coming here. I was forced to wear this monkey suit.”

 

“You’ve lost a bit of weight,” James noted, for once not liking that Q’s pants were slipping off of him. This was the only suit the man owned, custom made by James’ personal tailor, an interesting old man who worked at an expensive and posh little place that could make Kevlar look like normal cloth.

 

Q sighed and pulled his pants back up, fiddling with his belt. “Alec tried to get me to eat more, but I’d be done after two bites. And I don’t actually remember eating today…” A wave of dizziness washed over him and James dropped his luggage instantly, grabbing Q before he could fall on and eased him on a chair, one of his MI6 shadows appearing by his side with a bottle of cold water.

 

“Bring him a sandwich as well and have someone pull my car out of the parking lot and tell them to be sure that the air-conditioning is on.” James quickly instructed, shoving his wallet at the man so he or whoever else he was there with could take care of whatever fees there were for taking out the car.

 

The cold air alongside the sandwich that was devoured in less than two minutes did wonders for the young Quartermaster and James had virtually no trouble convincing him to go out and eat lunch after they were done with MI6. Q actually loved eating with other people, admitting one night that he had been avoided for most of his learning years by his peers because he was better than them in his field.

 

“They used to call me a freak, questioning if I was really human.” He didn’t sound bitter or sad, but he was avoiding looking at his lovers. “You would think that people would become more humane as they grew up, but you’d be wrong since I remember having my lunch dumped on my head all throughout collage. Apparently, they had labelled me a robot and a robot was only really allowed to ingest oil.”

 

Alec looked like he was ready to snap his knife in half and James’ fingers were twitching, begging to be wrapped around a gun and presented with Q’s former tormentors. They wanted to ask him from their names and then seek them out to break their fingers and dump them in large oil tanks as punishment, but Q looked up at them with a huge smile on his face and they dropped that idea.

 

He assured them that he had made peace with that part of his life, some of his former peers calling to apologize to him for what they had done. The smile he had when he said that tipped the two agents that the man might have let lose a little bit of his wrath on them once he had the necessary means and they couldn’t be more proud of the man.

 

“I am in the mood for Chinese,” James said suddenly, focusing back on the present.

 

Q looked up from his phone, eyebrow arched. “You just came back from China, James. I was sure you wouldn’t want to see food from that part of the world for at least three months.”

 

James shrugged, grabbing Q’s hand to kiss the tips of his fingers. “You know that my taste buds are pretty much wasted because of how much I used to drink. Plus, it’s your favourite food.” It was cute when Q blushed, especially since it happened so rarely. This was actually the fourth time in their 3 year relationship as lovers that it happened.

 

“Is this your way of telling me that you lost all of the equipment again, 007?” Q was trying to hide his embarrassment behind his Quartermaster voice and the usage of James’ designated number, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

 

“My dear and magnificent Quartermaster, I am sure you remember that I lost both my pistol and that fascinating lighter while I was on the coms with you. The electromagnetic belt I lost when I was with R, the cufflinks were explosive ones, so of course I used them.” He tapped the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green as he continued to go through the list of lost or destroyed gadgets. “But the earwig is one piece and still fully operational as is the fifth tracker you put in my leg.”

 

Because those are the only things Q really cared about with it came to him and Alec, although he would never really admit it. If he could hear them or see them, he knew they were alive and mostly well and that he could send backup and rescue them.

 

He remembered the one time he’d destroyed his earwig and tracking device. He had been seeing the Quartermaster romantically for a month and a half and when he finally returned, riddle with bullets and covered in cuts and bruises, the young man threw his tablet at his head, announcing him that they were over.

 

It was impossible for them to be a thing if James didn’t trust him, Q had explained in a painfully professional voice before ordering him out of his office. Alec had been just as upset, not because James kept his nutty plan from him. He was used to the idea that one day James would cease to be the phoenix he appeared to be, but he had no right to pull such a stunt with Q as his handler and if he wanted to sleep in their bed again, then he’d better find a way to pacify the Quartermaster because he had ended things with Alec as well.

 

“Mister Bond? Mister Bond, are you sure you don’t want a check-up as well?” A young nurse was asking him gently, shy smile on her face as she rubbed little circles with her fingers right under his neck. She must have been new because she seemed to present herself as a possible bed partner for him, but James had given up one night stands while outside of missions the seconds his relationship with Q and Alec was properly defined.

 

James turned to look at Q, winking to let him know that he was okay when he saw the worry in his eyes. “Suffering from jet lag. I’ll be okay in a couple of hours.” He gently shrugged her hand off of his shoulder, walking behind Q and starting to rub his back, looking at him with fondness to make it clear that they were lovers. “What about my Q? Is he okay?”

 

She seemed shocked to hear that, deflating instantly at being turned down. But she easily slipped in her professional persona and James was pleased to see that. “The Quartermaster just needs to eat and drink more and avoid the sun as much as he can. I see here that he’s been visiting us quite frequently since agent Trevelyan left?” She was unsure why that little comment had been added to the man’s medical chart or what it had to do with his health, but it had to be important if it was there.

 

Q was frowning now, hands crossed on his chest, getting ready to explain to James how that could have happened. It was something that happened quite often when both he and Alec were on gone on missions. Q submerged himself so much in his work since he had no reason to go home and especially if their missions were dangerous, that he simply forgot to eat and sleep.

 

And both James and Alec understood that. It didn’t mean that they planned on stopping nagging Q about being more careful any time soon, or pulling R and Eve and Bill and anyone they could think of aside and beg them to force food down the young man’s throat.

 

“Q—“

 

“Now James, I am a big boy despite the spots you keep claiming to see all over my body and no one can force me to do something that I do not want.” Q interrupted, regretting getting up from the bed as fast as he did the instant the world became just a tad sharper. Of course James was by his side instantly, helping him regain his balance, hands lingering around his waist. “But I’ll try to keep the state I am in right now the next time it happens.”

 

That was how their little arguments always ended – well, they actually really ended with Q panting and rubbing his head against one of their chests, glowing with pleasure and covered in bite marks.

 

“And I am happy to hear you say that, almost as happy as three months ago when you said the exact same thing, but I actually wanted to ask you how you’re doing with your vacation days.”

 

Q narrowed his eyes, cautious. “I took a week off in February, on our anniversary and—Oh, James no. Alec is on duty, you know that. Did you two have a fight or—“

 

“Q, Q, calm down. We did not have a fight.” He ruffled his hair, starting to rummage through his duffle bag, searching for a t-shirt or something that wouldn’t heat Q up as much as the suit jacket. “I was thinking you could go offer him back up directly from the country he is in – I will act as your personal guard – and after we all do our best to keep him from blowing up the country, you take a week off or however long this heat wave lasts and enjoy ourselves.”

 

The Quartermaster must have been made out of magic because he pulled a tablet from somewhere, fingers flying over the screen as he typed codes so he could check Alec’s mission specks. He hummed and narrowed his eyes and James moved in behind him to try and catch a glimpse of what exactly he was looking at. He might as well have been reading actual hieroglyphs, since the numbers and undulating lines meant absolutely nothing to him.

 

“That is a surprisingly good plan, 007.” He pinched the man’s stomach before he could ask why it was surprising that he had a good plan, moving out of his reach just in time to avoid getting his ass pinched hard. “James, please go home and pack our bags while I convince M to agree to this. And no, you can’t to the talking and I the packing because I am pretty sure you would have a lot of explaining to do for the Aston Martin and Jaguar you destroyed and that belonged to the prime minister.”

 

James clicked his tongue, fishing out three shirts from Q’s bag, two of them obviously not his because they were too large. “Should I also pack some of your clothes, or will you be wearing outs?”

 

Q let out a little noise and charged James, trying to grab the shirts. James simply opened his arms and waited for the contact to be made, hugging Q tightly and kissing the side of his neck, tossing the shirts back in the duffle bag. “I find it quite endearing that you either sleep in them, since I sense your smell mixed with ours, or walk around MI6 dressed in them.” He slid his hand down Q’s back, cupping his backside, grinning when the man got the idea and wrapped his legs around his waist.

 

“What shall I do about your ego, 007? I think it grew so big that it’s poking me in the stomach.” He started to nibble on James’ ear, slowly sucking it.

 

James slammed against the door, closing it just as someone was coming in. “If it’s not something urgent, bugger off for an hour or so.”

 

***

 

M was quite satisfied with the plan and easily agreed to it, especially since agent Trevelyan’s mission was the most important one a double oh agent was running – the others were all honeypots, which Alec refused to even hear about unless the world depended on them – and also because it was obvious even to a blind man that Q was suffering something terrible due to the heat.

 

Officially Q was a student – _yet again_ , he grumbled while James chuckled by his side – that ended up with a waiter job in the restaurant Alec’s targets usually wasted their time while James was supposed to be a tourist who just bummed around the town – okay, so that wasn’t really an undercover persona as much as what he was really going to do, but how else was he going to keep an eye on Q.

 

“You’re going to end up looking as a stalker,” Q pointed out on their way to the airport, trying his hardest not to think that they were about to embark on a death trap that weighted 450 tons. “You’ll be nothing but a creepy old man ogling an innocent student who is just trying to make an honest living for himself.”

 

“A twenty-eight years old student. That makes you a really horrible student, in my opinion. A slow learner and all that.” James snorted when Q’s mouth opened but nothing came out. “I think you’re trying to use words, love. Don’t force them and I am sure you’ll come up with something until we land in about two hours.”

 

Q huffed, letting James have this round. They weren’t seated together, of course. James, pretending to be a rich business man meant that he got the first class seats, with champagne and the works while Q, the poor student, who was going out of the country for the first time to work, got the cheapest seats available, sandwiched between a mother and her crying two-year old and an overly excited granny, with a kid that was probably practicing to become a football player.

 

“At least it’s not hot,” he grumbled, clinging to the arms on his seat and doing his best to ignore that they were trying to reach the perfect cruise height at a much bigger speed in his opinion so he could boot up his laptop and start ignoring everything around him.

 

James popped by every now and then, under the guise of needing to stretch his feet, winking at Q – not the mother, although she giggled every time he did and that eventually lead to an argument between her and her husband who was sitting behind them – to let him know that everything was still in order.

 

When they landed James made sure to board the same bus Q was on, squeezing in right behind him to get him to relax, dragging his hands down the man’s backside while reaching for his phone to check his text messages.

 

Alec was pleasantly surprised to see that Q was waiting his table, leaving him a hefty tip at the end of everything alongside his hotel key. “I have a thing for accents and people that look like I could break them in half while bedding them,” Alec proclaimed when someone from his group asked him why he’d go for someone so skinny, side glancing at his young lover almost dumping hot tea in James’ lap for whatever reason.

 

With Q’s direct intervention and James acting as Alec’s backup despite M specifically telling him not to do anything unless the Quartermaster was in danger, the overcomplicated, convoluted plan that neither the agents or boffin bothered to actually follow of sinking England was ruined in two days.

 

“Hm, we could have taken longer with this mission. I liked watching James struggle to climb up in my room while doing Q against the window,” Alec grumbled, earning himself an elbow in the stomach from Q, a kick in the back from James and R yelling in his ear that she really wasn’t interested in hearing his kinks.

 

“Just for that, you are going to carry all of our water and food while we’re hiking,” Q said, packing all of the mission equipment and giving it to their embarrassed contact.

 

Alec groaned, leaning his head on James’ shoulder, starting to pop open his shirt. “Moy zolotaya, will you help me distract nasha umnaya malen'kaya zvezda from his silly idea of actually leaving the comfort of our room?”

 

James hummed, sneaking his hands in front of Alec and starting to play with his zipper. “I think the both of us can come up with a decent plant.”

 

Q didn’t really understand at first why the man left the room in such a hurry, quickly stacking the briefcases one on top of the other and almost shutting the door on his foot. “What—Oh, I see. R, for your own sanity and that of those who are around you, turn off the earwigs,” Q ordered, tossing his phone to the side and practically drooling at how the men were kissing.

 

Since the two rarely vocalized their love for each other, Alec’s cute nicknames and James’ teasing ones aside, their intense sentiments were transmitted when they touched – Q was different; Q was not a killer, he didn’t know how to properly read body language and they both felt that he needed to be shown and told that he was loved.

 

James was holding on tightly to Alec, tilting him head slightly back so he wouldn’t have to sit on the tip of his toes, their eyes shut tightly. Q knew that they both tasted like various drinks mixed with gun powder and explosive and he moaned just thinking about it, getting their attention.

 

“This is cheating, but then again you two always do that.” He pulled on his waiter jacket, licking his lips. “Still, can I join, or is this one of those ‘look, but don’t touch’ shows?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moj dorogoj (мой дорогой) – my dear (between men)  
> Moy mIliy Angel (Мой милый ангел) – my dear angel  
> Zvezda moya (моя звезда) – my star  
> Ty vsegda v moikh meeslyah (Ты всегда в моих мыслях) - You are always in my mind  
> Bábnik (бабник) –womanizer, ladies’ man, wolf  
> Solntse (Солнце) – sun  
> Nasha umnaya malen'kaya zvezda (Наша умная маленькая звезда) – Our clever little star  
> Moy zolotaya (мой золотая) – my golden one


	6. Student life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Of course Q would have to play the role of the student while his two older lovers got teaching positions in their newest undercover mission. He just wish he wouldn't be bullied anymore or at least allowed to teach his bullies a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely thundernight asked for an undercover mission in a college where Q gets bullied and he hides it from his lovers.

The huge disadvantage to looking so young - other than the fact that he basically had to prove to every double oh agent personally that he did really know what he was doing - was that he was expecting to get stuck with the ‘student’ role during undercover missions where a hacker slash genius that looked like a complete pushover was needed.

 

Which, granted, was less insulting then the missions when he was supposed to pose as 006’s or 007’s kept boy - he was presented as that only when he was on certain undercover missions with those two agents because they were his lovers and it was well know that they were jealous and no one really forgot the incident when 006 broke 008’s hand because ‘it had no reason to be under Q’s shirt when no one was in the room and the minions were already controlling the security fee’.

 

“Don’t worry ljubímyj; we’ll be right there with you,” Alec – aka the infamous 006, who was ruthless in the field, but a complete darling when it came to his Q and his James - was muttering softly in his ear after the meeting was over, running his hands up and down his back. It was funny to think that the presence of the large, scarred Russian agent who was obviously armed with at least two guns calmed down the twig-like boffin, but it did. “Just make sure to enrol for Russian class and to never do you assignments so I can hold you back after class and give you the proper punishment.”

 

He dipped the man back, covering his neck in kisses and licking it, getting ready to leave behind a pretty obvious love bite just in case anyone got the bright idea to hit on him when his ears were caught in a rather strong and painful grip, James Bond - a giant, lazy and adorable dog when he was off duty who secretly loved to be reminded that he was loved - tugging him away from Q.

 

“Alec, this isn’t his first mission out in the field. And remember our conversation with M about making out with each other and Q where everybody could stop and stare?” Well, it had been more like a shouting match - or it actually escalated into one when the two intoxicated agents sandwiched a dumbstruck Q between them and continued their assault of his neck, ears and mouth - but the bottom line was that they weren’t allowed to do that anymore.

 

And, although Q sort of liked to follow the rules if they were bent to his will a little, today was not one of those days. He was on the edge and he wanted to spend as much time as it was possible in arms that would never hurt even a single hair on his head. Because, starting the next day, he’ll be thrown in that ruthless world he had thought he’d left behind him a long time ago and he was mentally going over the things he needed to buy to remove stains from his cardigans - get the cheap ones - and get gum out of his hair without cutting it - he needed to sneak out and buy a decent amount of peanut butter and a lot of cheap combs.

 

He was actually startled when James poked his nose and he took a step back, bumping into Alec. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m quite tired and it is hard for me to concentrate.”

 

Alec picked him up in his arms even before Q finished that sentence, James placing his lips on his forehead to check to see if his temperature was normal. Q failed to see how a fever had anything to do with him being tired, but he wasn’t really complaining about the treatment he was getting. He even allowed Alec to carry him to their car, simply resting his head against his shoulder and sighing happily when James started to play with his hair.

 

Everyone pretended not to see anything, even R who was trailing behind them. She had been tasked with going over the mission details again because “two certain agents were too busy paying attention a Quartermaster who shall not be named while he was eating an ice cream in a very indecent way during the meeting and Mister Tanner wanted to be sure that the agents in question got more out of it that the fact that they’d be roleplaying teachers and student.”

 

“I was on my very late lunch break and Alec managed to find my favourite ice cream when I was called in. Am I the to blame that he temperature was so high in that room that the ice cream was melting and I was forced to lick and suck on my fingers?” Q grumbled and the agents nodded, unable to hold themselves back from kissing him when they saw the semi-pout - because Q, the MI6 Quartermaster never actually pouted, and if everyone didn’t stop swearing on their lives that he did, then they will find themselves under a sudden technological curse.

 

“I know better than anyone how late you have your lunches, Quartermaster. And I still think you should call them by their real name, that being ‘dinner’,” R scoffed. She saw herself as Q’s big sister, watching over him alongside Eve and Tanner and all of Q branch when his lovers couldn’t and constantly worrying over his eating and sleeping habits alongside the two agents.

 

“We’ll stop for a very big dinner,” Q said before either one of his lovers could start running his mouth, overthinking things in the worst way possible as it was their habits. Not that Q was any better, his heart always stopping when it took the men a second too long to answer him during missions or when their voices were just slightly off while flirting or joking with him on the coms.

 

Alec held him tighter to his chest, burying his nose in his neck, breathing in that delicious leaf tea smell mixed with silicon which only Q had. “And when we do finally wake up, after we feed out needs, we’ll have a lazy breakfast.”

 

“In bed, of course,” James chimed in, Alec furiously nodding in agreement, both men missing the long, suffering sigh that R let out. Q found it funny at how clear it was that the men had only heard small pieces of their mission. “I am also thinking about brunch before we leave–”

 

“No, no, you are thinking quite wrong, 007,” Q said before R could intervene, taking pity on the woman’s already thin nerves. “I will be having breakfast on my own, at home, while you two will have it on campus, alongside your brand new colleagues.” He hopped out of Alec’s arms when they reached the equipment room, pulling out a duffle bag and starting to stuff it with what they would all need while R started to explain the mission again in the most bored voice she could muster.

 

This mission was their yearly cooperation with MI5 – she snorted here because everyone knew it was actually a contest to see witch MI was better at doing their job – and, officially, it was a standard bait one to lure out the one who was suspected of being a dangerous threat to Her Majesty and Her lands.

 

“Of course, we have our own agenda, but MI5 doesn’t really need to know that.” She winked at Q and he chuckled.

 

Q was going to be the bait because it was rumoured that the man liked technological attacks that rendered every computer operated machine useless. He was going to be the student who moonlights as a world-renowned hacker who had finally managed to shake off every agency that was after him.

 

James and Alec were the primary backup agents and they would take on the roles of teachers while the MI5 agents held lower positions throughout the campus – night guards, janitors, gardeners and so on. James would take over the English literature classes while Alec was going to be the new Russian linguistics teacher. No, they did not have PE classes in this university so yes, Alec was going to have to wear a bloody suit and get used to the idea.

 

“The kick the chemistry teacher out and put me in his place.” He flashed the woman a smile and threw his arms around his lovers, hugging them awkwardly. “They can guarantee that I am great with mixing all sorts of chemicals and get great results.”

 

“Which usually blow up,” Q deadpanned. “That is why M said that under no condition will you be allowed to even go near anything to do with chemicals.”

 

R had no problem ignoring Alec’s puppy eyes and terrifying glare. “The MI5 director also let a little note at the end of the file in which he pleads with our two double oh agents not to sleep with any student. “And since Q is going to be a student…” R trailed off, the agents looking at her as if she had just physically attacked them.

 

It was true that their relationship was fresh, not even an year old, but everyone in the spy business knew that the agents belonged to their Quartermaster and vice versa – although they had to share the professional part of that title with other agents because when they suggested to M that only they should interact with Q, office supplies started to fly towards their heads – which meant that they only slept with other people on missions when there was no other choice. Even M had stopped from sending them on honeypot missions unless she had to.

 

When it had been just James and Alec, they felt like something was still missing and neither man had anything against sharing their beds. And then Q came in. Q, who didn’t care that he was putting in their place deadly men who could kill him without breaking a sweat. Q, who worrying and fretting over them that the first time they both disappeared off all of the radars had shut himself in his office for four days and only allowed his body to shut down after he had seen them be safe and sound in the extraction chopper. Q, who took care of every double oh agent as if they were his children, personally dragging them to Medical and sitting on a chair with them, holding their hands when it was jokingly asked of him.

 

The instant everyone found out that Q did not care what gender his partner was, all bets were off and everybody was trying to get him. Alec and James had the biggest disadvantage. No one slept with as many people as they did and no one managed to get on Q’s nerves as fast as they did when they lost his tech. Plus, they already had each other, so why were they getting greedy and going after Q?

 

But Q chose them – a poor choice as far as everyone was concerned, the lucky agents included – and they felt complete. R had even sent a memo to everyone in MI6, letting them know that Q was ‘no longer on the market’ and that, should they attempt to do anything stupid, no one would step in to pry the deadliest double oh agents off of them.

 

Not really tasting the woman’s joke and actually a bit afraid that the agents would exaggerate, Q made something very clear from the second he saw that memo. “If you actually kill someone or attack them because they looked at me for too long, I will end this, do you understand? I am not sane, but I am enough to get out of a potentially toxic relationship that might end with me chopped up into little pieces.”

 

And since that day, they had been the happiest, the most dysfunctional and the most well-known couple in MI6’s history. And the MI5 director, the man who owed James five cars after last week’s poker night, dared to ruin the little fun and pleasure they could get out of a mission?

 

“This is because you refused to let the man win,” Alec hissed in his ear, biting his earlobe hard.

 

James groaned and turned around, wrapping his arms around Alec, hugging him tight enough to push out all of the air out of him and make him dizzy. “He’s a petty man if that’s the reason, Alec. And I don’t listen to petty men.”

 

“Are you implying that I am petty?” Q butted into the conversation, not needing to look up from the briefcases he was making up for the two agents to know that they had paled. “I mean, you rarely listen to what I tell you, so I am assuming that—“

 

His lovers were wrapped around him instantly, covering his face in kisses. “I’d never think that of you, Q.” James muttered softly in his ear.

 

“Yeah and if he did, I’d beat some sense into him. Now come on, tells us what these things are supposed to do and the many ways you picture us losing and blowing them up while pretending to be teachers.” And just to be sure that Q was distracted from the doubts that sometimes popped in head he brushed his fingers against a lighter.

 

Q’s reaction was immediate, hair actually bristling as he held the gadgets just out of their reach. “Be careful with it! It’s powerful enough to blow your upper body into tiny pieces.” He looked at the little thing with so much love that R groaned at the clear jealousy etched on the agents’ faces. Even if it wasn’t something inspired from a certain movie and made for a single use, the men would have found a way to rid themselves of the inanimate adversary.

 

***

 

The university grounds were exactly as Q had remembered them; filled with all sorts of people that loved nothing more than to gossip about the freshest piece of meat that had entered their lion den. The fact that he was a student joining in the middle of the first semester did not make things any easier for him.

 

They all wanted to know who he was, who his parents were and what qualified him to board their prestigious ship so late in its voyage? He dressed poorly compared to them – because ‘the villain of the week’ had to be a professor who taught at a private university – and they saw him walk up to the gates. Imagine that! A person using his legs for what they were meant to do instead of slinking out of a limousine or another expensive car.

 

“Bloody brats… I’d rip those silver spoons out of their mouths and shove them up their asses if this wasn’t a semi-important mission.” The reason why he dreaded this mission more than when he played kept-boy was because it struck so close to home, stirring up a lot of unpleasant memories of a time when he was the youngest student in a similar university and on a bloody scholarship.

 

You do not want to be the one student on scholarship in such a place. It was as if you had a scarlet letter sewed to your chest, market for all to know that you were the poor project the school took under its wing to get better ratings and for its heads to be praised for how kind and carrying they were to the lower masses.

 

It didn’t help his case that he was actually smart, smarter than all his peers and his teachers and he never shied away from showing everyone that. Even if he was bullied on a daily basis in the most cliché ways possible, from getting tipped to having the food he did his best to prepare the night before get dumped on his head.

 

He couldn’t defend himself back then besides hacking their precious trust accounts and playing around with the numbers in them – he had been tempted to send large sums of money to various foundations and keep a little to himself, but he found out that he couldn’t. But now, other than the fact that he was a tad older than the eldest, he also knew how to defend physically defend himself.

 

Except, he knew that he wasn’t supposed to let other people knew that he could defend himself. A private phone conversation with R after his lovers were spent and safely tucked around him, their legs thrown over his to remind their sleeping minds that they were in a safe place with someone they loved and protected them constantly, confirmed that.

 

“I am so sorry to have to ask this of you, Q, but if you do get…” She let out a shaky sigh and Q could easily see her chewing on nails with his mind’s eye. “The professor we’re going after has a little band of misfits who like to show everyone they are superior. You’d have no problem putting them in their place, but…” she trailed off and sighed again.

 

“I understand, R, do not worry. I have to let them bully me, preferably in front of our target. I should also let out a few tears roll down my face and declare my wish to get revenge on the upper class, right?” That should land him in the man’s graces and computer faster, making the whole mission easier.

 

She probably nodded her head despite the fact that Q wasn’t there. “But Q, promise me that you won’t let them hurt you for real. If they do, just break their faces and then get the agents and we’ll all figure out something, okay?”

 

“I give you my word, R.” His fingers were crossed and the woman probably knew that.

 

In reality, his mission was ‘get bullied for the Queen and country’ and, despite the fact that he had promised R to do just that, he wasn’t going to compromise the whole thing. He preferred the missions where he had to sleep with James and Alec for the same reasons and if the man they were after was the type to get pleasure out of younger people sleeping with him, Q knew that this mission would have been that type of a mission.

 

“Watch where you’re going, project,” a tall boy growled at him as he bumped into him hard, making him drop his books. “You might get dirt on me and you look like you’ll have to work your entire life to pay for cleaning it.”

 

And so it began. He was back to being the poor student who made his other peers sick because he didn’t smell like money while the two agents easily entered their roles as teachers, diligently putting together the materials they needed for their classes while on a secure version of Skype with Q – when R signed off, they’re sessions degenerated into something else and the two always finished what they were working on in the morning.

 

Video chatting aside, James and Alec managed to act professional around him, although they found all sort of tricks to have private meetings with him. Alec gave him hard ‘homework’ every two days just to keep him after class and ‘help’ him with it while James claimed every now and then that there was something that didn’t quite make sense in his essays which needed to be cleared up before getting credits for it.

 

Just to make sure that things wouldn’t be seen as suspicious, the two agents did that to other students as well, genuinely helping them. Q thought that, in another life, the two would have made excellent teachers, although Alec had caught one student cheating at one of the surprise quizzes – and really, colleges didn’t usually do that, but Q just couldn’t pop the man’s bubble when he saw how excited he was when he had come up with the questions – and looked like he was plotting to break his arms.

 

Their target’s posse just continued to make Q’s life horrible constantly tripping him, smacking his books out of his arms and doing their best to try to grab his laptop and either throw it out the window or dump in in the fountain. Q never let them touch the laptop, of course, usually making the fact that he escaped look like an accident.

 

Sometimes, if he was ‘attacked’ in crowded places, some students intervened, although not directly. Everyone was too afraid of what might happen to their grades if they did that – they advertised themselves as hackers, even offering Q their services at a price he technically couldn’t afford after shredding one of his essays. In reality, Q suspected that the only reason they could access the college’s database was because of his target giving them access.

 

They had even started to try to get Q to be late for his classes, trying to stuff him in the janitorial closet more than once, but he was too fast for them. The one time they did, he was on his way for James’ class and the only reason he panicked and took him more than thirty seconds to jimmy the lock was because he could easily picture the man teaming up with Alec and tearing the place apart while searching for him because Q was never late.

 

Their hatred from him increased when Q got praised by his target for a job well done spotting and neutralizing the Trojan he had sneaked on the USB stick he was given the previous night. He claimed that it had been a test to see if he was indeed worthy of being in his advanced class despite his late arrival, but Q felt like it was more than that.

 

“I have never seen someone work so fast or so smoothly on something before,” the man was saying and Q could just hear his youth gang growl at him. “I wish to discuss your work after you are done will all of your classes today. And you have to tell me if you’ve worked on something else in your spare time.”

 

He was kicked and elbowed when the students filed out of class, the head torment even tugging on his hair until the teacher coughed and waved him out. The glare he got for making him be silently scolded made him quite happy that he didn’t have anything sticky in his lunchbox – because he was still playing the poor student who made his own lunches.

 

They were waiting for him right around the corner, of course, and they dragged him inside a bathroom where he assumed they wanted to shove his head in a toilet and flush it. Honestly, these people were supposed to be smart, to be the future of a country and they were acting like fools. Q really wanted to grab their heads and smack them against a wall to see if they had brains, but he had to remember his mission.

 

“If you think you’re stealing my spot on the honour roll, you have another thing coming, you lower class mongrel,” the head bully growled in his ear, tugging on his hair so hard that he actually pulled a few strands lose.

 

Q knew that he should keep his mouth shut and wait for the poor soul to be done with his jealousy fit, but he couldn’t help himself. He ran his mouth even before he knew how to defend himself, why would now be any different? “Can a mongrel be any other class than lower? Although, when I look at you…”

 

He turned his head and grabbed the boy’s hand just in time to avoid getting smacked and a really good move is he said so himself, seeing that the other was suddenly wearing a lot of jagged rings. A miracle he didn’t have brass knuckles on, probably because this was them acting without orders and they were afraid of how their real boss would react if Q showed up too hurt.

 

The bully recovered from his shock rather fast and he pulled his hand back, ready to punch him again while his minions grabbed Q, but at that exact moment, James walked in and threw him against the wall. “What is going on here?” His voice was clam, but Q knew that was anything back good news. He was flexing his fingers, hands slightly trembling and it was clear he wish he had his trusty Walther on him.

 

“He was feeling faint and we were just helping him.” One of the boys holding him spoke up, slapping his back hard before wrapping his arm around him and pulling him close. “Weren’t we?”

 

Q lowered his head and nodded slowly, surprised when James pulled him from between the men. He was happy to feel all of senses get assaulted by James’ presence and he instantly relaxed, his own need to inflict bodily harm and technological failure on the poor, misguided stuck up souls disappearing completely. “I will take him to the nurse’s office. You six get back to your own classes.”

 

They walked in silence to the nurse’s office and because the woman on duty was an MI5 employee and Q branch announced that the office was bug free, James wrapped his arms around Q and hugged him tightly, nuzzling his neck. “What was really happening there? Did they actually dare to pick on you? Do people do that at their age?”

 

He stepped away from Q and started to undress him, suddenly afraid that he would find his body covered in bruises. The nurse made to stop the agent, confused as to what was happening and unsure if she was supposed the Taser she had hidden under her desk, but Q shook his head.

 

“It’s quite alright. He is my lover.” And just as he said that, the door was kicked open and Alec entered, looking like a wild animal.

 

James took a step back and Q twirled a little, opening his arms to hug the agent after he was done making sure that there were no marks on him. “Your legs are covered in bruises kotenok and I saw them trip you this morning on your way to my class. Do you have something to tell us?”

 

The only reason why Q didn’t fall on his back when James grabbed his legs to take a look at them was because Alec had lifted him up like he was a princess to help James. The nurse took out her Taser this time, not wanting to be part of a fight between two double oh agents and the only reason why Alec wasn’t convulsing on the ground and foaming at the mouth was because Q spoke up just as she was pulling the trigger.

 

"He is also my lover. All three of us are lovers.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving her a lopsided smile. “We have a special relationship, if unconventional. Would you terribly mind if you gave us a few minutes of privacy? Just go out and pretend to get something because… Professor Trevelyan has a nose bleed.”

 

“I am sorry, but I am really not allowed to do that. Both as a nurse and as an MI5 agent, despite your reassurance that _this_ is okay,” she said slowly, narrowed eyes fixating the double ohs.

 

Alec covered hid his nose in Q’s stomach, tickling the man and making him giggle. “No one is breaking my nose. She can find some paint, but no one is touching my nose.” There had been one mission when James and Alec were upset over something small - well, Q considered small, James and Alec did not because how was it okay for both of them to mix up his birthday and they blamed each other for that - and there was a requirement at one point for one of the two men to have a broken nose.

 

Suffice to say that it was proven that day which of the two agents were really faster, James panting above a shocked and bleeding Alec. Q banished James from their bedroom for two days when the mission was over and saw to all of Alec’s needs - which were all about being held, hugged, kissed, pampered, simply loved which, coincidentally, were the same ones James had whenever he came back hurt from a mission and that said a lot about their psychic as far as Q was concerned.

 

“I have no reason to break your nose, Alec,” James muttered, brushing his lips against the top of his head before placing a kiss on the biggest bruise Q had on his leg. “Q, tell us their names and we will– Wait, never mind. I’ll have your minions give me their full names and home addresses.” He hit his earwig a few times, turning away from his younger lover and ending up with him on his back, legs wrapped around his neck to keep him from talking with R.

 

Alec was trying to pry the Quartermaster off without hurting him and the nurse looked at the whole scene with doubt in her eyes that these people were really those two legendary agents that saved the country and the world countless times in the past while the young man was the Quartermaster that had brought actual tears to so many spy agency heads when he chose MI6 over them.

 

“Bloody hell, 007 and 006!” It was never good when Q used their designated numbers while they were in private. “If you either of you compromise this mission, I will see that you two get benched for an entire year and I won’t even as much as look in your direction.”

 

The men froze instantly when they heard that and Q hopped off from Alec’s arms, starting to put his clothes back on. “See with what I have to put up with?” He asked the nurse, the woman covering her snort with a cough. “I knew you two are worried, but please let’s remember what we have to do and not screw this up, okay? You want these bruises to be for naught?” The agents shook their heads in perfect sync.

 

James walked up to him and started to help him with his cheap tie. “Frankly, we’d prefer you not have any bruises.”

 

Alec nodded in complete agreement. “And, maybe break a bone in their leg or thirty. Just to be sure we get our point across about why even thinking of messing with you or upsetting you is a terrible idea.”

 

“You won’t really be able to break all of the bones in a single leg, from hip to the little tone,” the nurse chipped in and Alec gave her a look as if he was ready to accept her challenge.

 

Q pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off the impending headache. “I really wish we wouldn’t be having this type of conversation,” he pleaded in an exasperated voice. “I have to meet with our target soon, so I do not have the time to actually come up with good excuses for why those little posh bastards shouldn’t have every bone in their bodies broken or some other such satisfying thing.”

 

He got one good make out session from the men, not bothered in the least that they had an audience, before breaking into a run to reach the target’s office. He avoided getting tripped again on his way in, slamming the door behind him a little bit too much force than was actually needed and barely managed to hold back the string of cusses.

 

The man looked up at him and smiled, signalling to take a seat. “Oh, mister Boothroyd. You didn’t have to run all the way here; I have the rest of the day off and I don’t really mind waiting for brilliant minds.” He got up and actually poured Q a glass of water.

 

“I hate making other people wait for me, Professor Dent.” He nodded his thanks to the man and emptied the glass in one go, noting that his desk was covered in papers that detailed his made up background. Excellent, he took the bait. “Now, you said you wanted to talk to me about my extracurricular work? Is it about me helping gambling websites to strengthen their security protocols?”

 

Q started to fidget when the man turned his eyes on him, actually feeling unsettled about the way they looked at him. “Praiseworthy as that may be, mister Boothroyd, I am more interesting in the _other_ work you do.” He walked up behind Q and placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them as he leaned close to whisper in his ear. “To be more specific, about how you used to hack in governmental agencies for the fun of it and all those other little games you played with certain royal families’ bank accounts.”

 

Professor Dent had a modest childhood. Not quite poor, not quite part of the middle class, but definitely not part of the high society. He was smart – not as smart as Q and that was the precise reason why he was ‘courting’ the young man – and knew how to manipulate those around him into doing his bidding. That was what had enabled him to rub elbows with the richest of the rich for a while.

 

He would have probably died a rich man if it hadn’t been for his ego. A silly little mistake and he was cast out of all the fancy circles that toasted to him on a regular basis, his rich friends turning their noses up and their backs to him, ordering him out of their sights. Those he could, he blackmailed and he eventually ended up with this teaching position in one of the most expensive private colleges in the country.

 

But Professor Dent wanted revenge for the hard slap he received from his former friends and decided to use his position to exact it. He must have snapped somewhere, because from simple embezzlement, he slowly started to offer his support to a certain organization that held no love for England or its people.

 

The professor wasn’t an actual threat, mostly dealing with petty things that ended up as loose change to the organization as well as providing them with information of past missions that the UK governmental agencies ran. But, despite the fact that Dent was a small fry in the organization, he had access to a part of the organisation’s servers – not full access; the man was probably on what could be considered the ‘Clearnet’ of it - and this was where Q’s real mission began.

 

He was supposed to somehow be granted access to Dent’s computer and infected it with a kernel-based keylogger to get all the information they needed – well, first he was supposed to determine which exact program he was going to use based on the security protocols installed on the man’s computer. MI6 would then clone Dent’s computer, access the private web and infect it with a worm made by Q while Q was still playing student.

 

Q was actually very proud of the worm he had designed, a beautiful payload type which had yet to be detected by anyone on whose system Q had tested it on. He always got so animated when he talked about it, cheeks slightly getting a red tint to them whenever someone who actually knew what he was talking about congratulated him and James and Alec joked that they were the proud fathers of a virtual invertebrate and use that as another excuse to cover Q’s face in kisses.

 

“I really do not know what you are talking about, Professor Dent,” Q stuttered out, hugging his laptop tightly. “I think I should go; Professor Trevelyan was very disappointed with the work I turned in.”

 

He got up, but Dent easily pushed him down, his nails digging in Q’s shoulders. “Oh, but you do know what I am talking about. You see, I had a friend check your work out and it seemed that you couldn’t help yourself from leaving behind your signature.”

 

Q tried to shrug the man off, lowering his head even more. “It is… I am not the only one who has a signature. Just because you found one doesn’t mean I do illegal things.”

 

Dent chuckled, sitting back down at his desk, lazily flipping through the papers. “You are right, of course. But my friend found reports of that exact same signature popping up in all sort of nasty hacks that appeared to have caused quite a bit of trouble for our government.

 

Q jumped on his feet and grabbed Dent’s hands, squeezing them, looking at him as terrified as he could. “Please don’t turn me in! I know that what I did wasn’t right, but did they ever do anything good for me? They almost caught me once, so I stopped and I promise that I will never do it again. Just, don’t turn me in!” He pleaded, tears in his eyes.

 

The man smiled at him, pulling him in a hug which creeped Q and caused him to shiver in disgust. “My dear boy, you don’t need to worry about anything. I understand your hatred and I will not turn you in. And I will not let those mean boys who tripped you touch you again, I promise.”

 

He stepped away and looked at Q, clearly enjoying the way the man was fidgeting under his gaze. “You have a deal.”

 

***

 

It required three weeks for MI6 to extract all the information they needed and as soon as they were done, they sent their double oh agents to neutralize the most dangerous operations they were running. MI5 wasn’t that happy, even though they arrested Dent for cybernetic terrorism and were seat to be the top of the news for the next week or so because MI6 had, once again, one-upped them in front of the Prime Minister.

 

Q was set to drop out at the end of the week and the two teachers that had been replaced by the double oh agents were going to end their mandatory training in two weeks. The agents were a little bit bummed out by the lack of any action and by the fact that they wouldn’t be able to ‘mould the minds of future generations’ – as Alec put it – but they were infinitely happy that they will no longer have to keep away from Q.

 

That put Q on cloud nine, of course, and that was why there was a little skip in his step on his way back to his dorm room. And, ignoring the bruises he had on his legs and the three shirts that were covered in all sort of sauces from the food that had been dumped on his head, this second incursion in the world of academics had been quite pleasant.

 

He was just jiggling the keys in his door – a cheap lock which somehow made opening the door harder than easier – when two large shadows fell over him. He instantly knew that it wasn’t James and Alec, the smell was all wrong and he actually heard them sneak up on him. Sadly, he realized the latter part after something hard connected with the back of his head and the world was already going dark around him.

 

Someone was poking him rather rudely in the nose with something sharp and his hands were tied tightly behind his back. And bloody hell, it was tight correctly. “Oh, the little mongrel is finally waking up.” He recognized that the voice belonged to Dent’s favourite hound and when he finally managed to get his eyelids to cooperate with his brain, everything was blurry and out of focus. His glasses were missing – but seeing that he was probably going to get the life beaten out of him, that was a good thing.

 

“You, I’ll miss the less. What is the meaning of this?” There was no trace of that scared young man in his voice and it obviously shocked his captors. “Well, on with it. Answer the bloody question. Or did you also knock your head when you hit mine and lost that lone brain cell that was doing all the work?”

 

That earned him a slap, the other captor knocking over his books. “I know Professor Dent was arrested because of you, you mutt. We’re not dumb, you know.”

 

“You could have fooled me, honestly.” He guessed that he had been passed out for no more than five minutes and since his room was still under his minions’ surveillance, James and Alec were probably fifteen minutes away. “I mean, I’ve seen fifteen year olds writing better codes on their first attempt than your rubbish.”

 

He had struck a chord, the man’s eyes filling with tears as his fist connected with the side of Q’s head. “Professor Dent taught me everything I know! I won’t let you insult me or his hard work.”

 

The world spun and got out of focus and he was quite happy that he was tied to a chair otherwise he would have fallen on the ground. “Yes well, I have a little tip for you.” The ringing finally went away and Q could finally hear his own thoughts again, internally counting down until the door would be broken down. “Forget everything he showed you and enrol yourself in a nice beginners’ course.”

 

He wasn’t struck again, which was shocking, but the man hit him where it hurt him the most since he ripped his laptop from his friend’s hands and smashed it against the wall. He started to scream and cuss him, scarring his companion who had snuck next close to Q, clearly not realizing that sitting near the person causing a meltdown was not the brightest idea – as such, he was almost hit in the head with a book before he got the point and slunk off closer to the door.

 

“What did he do to you, huh? He gave you a chance at greatness and you? You sold him like the dog you are!”

 

“Dogs are quite loyal so—“

                                                                                                                        

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He grabbed his face, digging his nails in his face, growling. “I have you tied to a chair and yet you’re still talking to me like you are my superior! You who are not worthy to lick the ground I walk on. Why?”

 

On a level, Q realized that he was running his mouth because he was afraid. He couldn’t help it, really. He wasn’t a field agent and he was tied up in a room with a man who was clearly having a nervous breakdown – Dent had clearly been his father figure – and he was one of the reasons why he was having it. Talking just relaxed him, especially if he talked back. And he had listened to so many of his agents do it that he didn’t know any other way to deal with this.

 

“You keep asking me questions or you’re saying erroneous things and since I know that you’re going to beat me up even if I keep my mouth shut, why shouldn’t I? If you feel good when you’re inflicting physical pain on me for no good reason, imagine that I enjoy beating you in a battle of wits.” He sighed in frustration at not managing to free his hands, tapping his foot on the ground. “Although, if you set me free, I’ll show you that I actually have no problem taking you down.”

 

The man’s eye actually twitched and Q realized that he went too far when he saw his hands turn white at how hard he was clutching the laptop. “For no good reason? From the moment I saw you walk in the college, I had a bad feeling. I knew you’d ruin everything” He let out a hallow laugh, hands starting to shake. “As for you taking me down… Why take the chance? I really am not that stupid; I know you move fast. Who do you work for?” Q pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. “Who do you work for?” The man asked again, starting to hit him with the laptop in pure, blind rage.

 

The door flew off its hinges, knocking out Q’s second captor, both agents throwing themselves over the one who was beating their lover up. Alec grabbed what was left of the laptop out of his hands and started hitting him over the head with it, James punching him repeatedly in the stomach.

 

They stopped when the man was probably close to dying, rushing to Q’s side. Alec was muttering in Russian – all curses and apologies to him for taking too long – and James was trying to find a way to get the duct tape off without causing Q more pain. Not that Q was sure he could feel anything with his face anymore.

 

“I’m sorry for this love. I promise to kiss it better.” James flinched harder than Q when he pulled the tape off, wrapping his arms around him as Alec started to untie his arms.

 

“Sorry we took so long, krasívyj. We got here as fast as we could.” He quickly checked Q’s writs just to be sure they weren’t bleeding before letting James gather the shaking man in his arms, gluing himself to his back to effectively hide Q from the world.

 

A medical team showed up before the MI5 regular agents, making sure the civilians were okay before starting to bandage Q up. His nose was broken, his eyes were slowly swelling shut and he had a loose tooth, but at least he didn’t have a contusion. Not that it kept the agents from trying to pull the man’s teeth out with their bare hands and Q had been so tempted to let them do just that just because he trashed his laptop, but…

 

“James, Alec… Please, I am tired,” he muttered, flinching when he accidentally touched his nose. His lovers were by his side instantly, the medics turning their attention to the other two wounded people. “If it is alright with you, I’d like to sleep with you two tonight—“

 

“That went without saying, love,” James interrupted, signalling Alec to start packing his clothes. “He’s the one who gave you those bruises on your legs, isn’t he?” Q sighed and nodded, carefully resting his head against the man’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you defend yourself? I know that you’re good at fighting; you took me down for real more than once, despite what I claimed.”

 

“James, I am the perfect bullying target with my cheap looking sweaters, messy hair, close resemblance to a bloody twig and glasses. And I was posing as a computer nerd.” He poked his stomach, moving away to let Alec dress him in a new shirt. “Someone who’s like that and doesn’t work for MI6 doesn’t really fight back with their fists. And they especially do not know the fancy moves they teach us.”

 

Alec made sure the shirt was buttoned up properly, running his hands down Q’s chest. “So wait. You _know_ that your expensive cardigans and sweaters look _cheap_ and yet you still buy them?” He smiled when Q chuckled, James squeezing the back of his throat softly.

 

It was clear why Q acted the way he did, not even planning on denying that they would have tracked every last one of the bullies and beaten them within an inch of their lives, maybe even putting them in wheelchairs for a few years. Okay, so Q made the right choice in keeping everything hidden from them since they would have put the whole operation at risk and give M more than enough reasons to never have them work together again since it was clear that their relationship got in the way of their mission.

 

“I think Tanner can help us with a dentist that’s still open at this hour,” Alec spoke up after he made sure Q was safely tucked in the back seat and correctly buckled up – which meant that he was wrapped in one of his jumpers, with James’ jacket draped over his shoulders, two more blankets Alec stole from the medics.

 

“We’re not in London, so bothering Bill at this ungodly hour is completely useless,” Q pointed out, trying to free his hands so he could use his phone. “Alec, it’s too tight.” He rolled his eyes when the man started to snicker.

 

“Alec, if he starts to turn blue I will chop off your arms and hit you with them until _you_ change colours.” James glared at him in the rear-view mirror until he saw Q holding the phone really close to his face, somehow managing to also write, his shoulders relaxing when Alec rested his head on his lap. “You’re driving us back, Alec. And you’ll respect the traffic laws when you do it.”

 

Q tapped James’ shoulder with his phone, letting the man have it before tangling his fingers in Alec’s hair. “Speaking of which, you just ran the second red light and we have a cop car with flashing lights right behind us.”

 

Well, this was going to be fun. James and Alec would still show up as teachers when the officer would run their names through their database. Q would pop up as their student and they were going to have to explain why he was in their car with his face busted up and wearing articles of clothing that were clearly too large for him and that strangely fit his supposed teachers perfectly.

 

“At least it is not raining,” James grumbled, grabbing the phone from Alec’s hands and tossing it out the window before the man could start playing storm noises, managing to hit the officer right in the head. “Alec, I think you’ll be driver for a long while.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> люби́мый • (ljubímyj) – beloved, darling  
> котенок • (kotenok) – kitten  
> краси́вый • (krasívyj) – beautiful


	7. His agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. James and Alec get seriously hurt during a mission and Q wants revenge for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azteka wanted to see Q get revenge when his agents got hurt :) Hope you enjoy love~

He usually wasn’t bothered by the smell of disinfectants that clung to hospital rooms or the mechanical sounds that rang in your ear no matter where you were. But in this case, it stung his nose so hard that he was sure he would get a nose bleed by the time he left for home and the silence that passed between the beeps from the heart monitors made him feel uncomfortable, sighing in relief when it didn’t turn out to be one, continuous sound.

 

What was different this time was that he was visiting two double oh agents he just so happened to secretly care for very much. And it bothered him to see them so silent and pale, eyes closed and hooked up to all sorts of machines that pretty much did the living for them at that point. Q simply wanted to drop on his knees and cover his ears, but he was afraid he’d suddenly be facing two coffins if he did that. He really wasn’t ready for a world where he wouldn’t hear horrible pick-up lines, thought out innuendos

 

In the left bed, there was Alec Trevelyan. His designated agent name was 006 and he has - he refused to use the past tense - an affinity towards exploding devices despite the fact that he had almost lost his life because of one and who went for the direct route had always proclaimed that the only time he would not be actively hitting on his favourite Quartermaster was going to be when he was dead. Apparently, a coma was also good enough to silence him it drove Q mad with anger, also missing the way he poked his sides and hanged on him every time he saw him.

 

They had broken his legs, shot his arms and then put a bullet right above his heart while forcing his partner to watch the whole thing. It had been a miracle that he was still breathing when the recovery team that Q sent against orders found him.

 

In the right bed, James Bond was sleeping that kind of sleep that one might not wake up from. He is - fuck the past tense - 007, MI6’s best agent who, frankly speaking, was smoother than butter despite Q constantly telling him that he was surprised his words actually worked. He was more subtle than his best friend and partner in crime and preferred guns, even though he lost them more frequently than Q lost his socks. Q had gotten so used to that happened that he just tossed a notepad at James’ head that had the usual speech about taking better care of his equipment while taking out a new gun from the Bond-drawer.

 

His torture had lasted longer, the bastards dragging him out of the room after shooting Alec in front of him. They blamed him for Alec’s apparent death, sticking knives in his chest as they whispered the long list of people who had died because of him. After breaking his leg in a third place, he had passed out and they were getting ready to castrate him as punishment for sleeping with the boss’ late wife. He was saved just before they stuck the scalpel in him, although he never woke up.

 

The scumbags fled the instant they realized that MI6 had tracked them down and Q ordered the team to forget about them and just bring his double ohs home. No, they wouldn’t be sanctioned if they let those men escape. They had nothing but MI6 blood on their hands, so it was okay to let them flee.

 

So here was Q, pulling a chair between the beds - he had insisted that the two of them be put in the same room just so they wouldn’t trash the place looking for the other when they woke up and no one was foolish enough to go against the scarily cool Quartermaster - and holding their hands.

 

“It annoys me to no end that the one time I get both of your guns back, you end greet me not with childish lines fit more for someone half my age, but with stillness and silence.” He squeezed their hands, rubbing his face against them. “If you thought I was angry when you destroyed my prototypes, just you wait until you wake up. I’ll show you then just how crossed I am when you two get hurt.”

 

A short knock on the door let Q know that it was time for him to go and he slowly got up, kissed their foreheads and made sure they were properly covered. He would wait for them to wake up before running his fingers over their new scars, scolding them for each one and not care at all about the weird looks they’d give him - ‘you kept hitting on me; of course I’d fall for you’ was what he planned on telling them if they questioned his strange behaviour.

 

He got home pretty fast even though he took the subway route instead of the MI6 car that just happened to be waiting for him at the private hospital’s entrance, served the people who were supposed to be subtle in keeping an eye on him with hot tea and some Chinese food he picked up on his way home and then covered the windows so the pesky natural light didn’t distract him anymore.

 

M had unofficially congratulated him for recovering the two, but had been forced by MI6’s rules to officially punish him for going against orders. He was temporarily stripped of his title and banned from headquarters, ordered not to live the country and see a psychiatrist every week. And that suited him just fine because there would be nothing to distract him as he dished out his revenge.

 

MI6’s servers were protected by something he had created. Of course he knew the hidden doors and how to open them. His minions were loyal to him above everything else - which worried M, but the man had the decency to try and hide that - and if they did somehow manage to detect his presence in their servers, no one would report anything to anyone.

 

There had been a total of five men directly involved in his agents’ torture and Q planned on dealing with them first. The guards, the organization and the man that had ordered everything would also be dealt with, but those five animals were on top of Q’s revenge list. He had even pulled out their pictures and ran a worldwide facial recognition program to find them.

 

It took him two days to find the one who broke his beloved agents’ legs. And what a shock, the man was using his card in a brothel in Paris. It would be a shame if it showed that he had no money, now wouldn’t it? And of course, even more of a pity if the fully automatized machine that was putting a sign up right next to where the man had crawled after being beaten were to suddenly lose power. He wondered if he enjoyed having his legs broken as he was dragged away by the police, his record suddenly showing that he was wanted in England for robbing a jewellery store.

 

He wasn’t quite done with him, of course. There was more to follow as soon as his wheelchair touched British soil.

 

“I may have miscalculated and the sign fell on his back instead of his feet so he won’t be able to walk again,” Q told the two still comatose agents the following day, signing proud of himself. “It may have been a slight on purpose on my part, but that’s what happens to people who touch my agents.”

 

A nurse walked in, small basin of lukewarm water in her lap and two unopened sponges tucked in her pocket. She was petite and her hair was dark, an air of helplessness around her despite the fact that she probably help saved more lives than the agents killed in their entire careers. She was just their type and Q was pleased on a level that they were taken care of by someone they would actively try to pursue and convince to share their bed.

 

“I am so sorry, sir, but it is time for you to leave,” she whispered, giving him an apologetic smile.

 

It was strange that the silence rule also applied to comatose patients. Shouldn’t the hospital be blasting the loudest, sickest, death metal CD or mp3 file they could find? Didn’t they want those patients to wake up? Talk to them when you visit them and plead with them to wake them up, but be as quiet as possible in case you disturbed them. That was just bloody moronic from Q’s point of view.

 

“Yes, of course.” He turned to the two men, forgetting that they weren’t alone as he gave them their customary forehead kisses and waited for a moment just in case this was that one sappy fairy tale where a peck woke the sleeping princes up – or maybe it didn’t work because he didn’t kiss them on their mouths and they needed to be princesses. “I’ll see you two soon and you better be hitting on someone when I do.”

 

He got lucky and found three of their tormentors that very same night. One of them was the bastard who had dared to shoot Alec so Q cracked his knuckles and started working. He managed to find where they lived and short circuited every electrical thing they had in their houses, burning them down. He continued to empty their accounts before waiting for them to walk in an elevator and joy! It was just the three of them and such a coincidence that the little metallic box’s cables got disconnected just as they reached the 7th floor.

 

They didn’t die, but they were scared for life. And wouldn’t you know it? They were also wanted for armed robbery in London and Q would get to play with them some more once they got sent over for a trial - which would end in 25 years in the toughest prison they had, next to their handicapped companion and at his mercy.

 

“You two are so stubborn,” Q grumbled when he walked in the hospital room only to be greeted by the usual beeping sound. “Didn’t I say that I wanted to see you two hitting on someone?”

 

He had brought flowers and a couple of balloons this time. He had no idea why; he just felt like it. The two men never expressed interest in flowers, but Q still bought the most expensive bouquets he could find in the flower shop. Alec might have found the balloons funny, Q picturing the man rubbing them against Q’s mess of a hair just to see the strands sticking up before trying to get the balloons to stick to the side of James’ head.

 

The nurse entered the room and Q’s heart stopped. “Is visiting time over already? I–”

 

“No, no. I just saw you walk in with the flowers and brought vases for them,” she said quickly, putting the two white recipients on the shared table between the beds. She then put Q’s chair in its usual spot and winked at him as she checked her patients’ states. “I might forget that you are in here and give you an extra thirty minutes with your lovers.”

 

Q started laughing, shocking the woman. “We are not lovers. I am just a co-worker who got stuck with delivering everyone’s good wishes and all that.”

 

He was a good liar, knowing how to mask his reactions and to seem completely emotionless when needed, but the nurse had seen so many friends, family and lovers interact with patients so she _knew_. “Oh, I am extremely sorry. I assumed that because they are visited by other co-workers, only they don’t hold their hands like you do or kiss their foreheads before they leave like you do and they do not stay as long as you do.”

 

Q felt his face grow a tad warmer, but he refused to look away from her. “I am not their lover,” he insisted in his dry voice. “You are their type while I am a scrawny man with a dry sense of humour. They always said I baby them so I treat them as such even when they are in this state.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say out loud that they were in a coma.

 

She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled sweetly at him, making him extremely uncomfortable. “I am sure that’s not the case. And please excuse me for reading the whole situation wrong.”

 

She definitely didn’t look sorry, not with the wink and the grin she had one as she left the three alone. He pretty much slumped in his chair, grabbing their hands and holding them to his chest, grumbling.

 

“Miss Moneypenny and she would be the best of friends. Actually, I’d be surprised if they aren’t already.” He narrowed his eyes, rubbing their knuckles with his thumbs. “I can picture them now, talking in hushed whispers at the foot of your beds about how I lose track of time when I come here.”

 

Which he did again, talking in great detail about how his revenge plans on their behalf were going and how good it felt when he inflicted pain on those people. He avoided talking about that with his psychiatrist, for obvious reasons. Although he admitted to suspecting that M was more than aware of what he was up to.

 

He also assured them that their apartment was well taken care of and that he wouldn’t let anyone pack anything from it or sell it or worse, unplug them. “Not that anyone wants to do that to you. They are all rooting for you to pull your usual phoenix shtick and just waltz in MI6 when we need you most.”

 

He remembered the last time they did that, shocking M so much when he walked in his office to find them drinking his best scotch that he almost had a heart attack. They had dropped by Q’s branch first, Alec ruffling his hair while James subtly gave him a gift back as an apology from both of them for all the trouble they had put him through.

 

“You promised that was the last time you’d scare me so bad,” Q muttered. “And of course I was foolish enough to believe you, just like always.”

 

He didn’t cry because he was the Quartermaster, not just a simple man in love that was struggling not to think of the worst thing that could happen. He got up when he had nothing left to say and he started feeling cold, glaring at the tubes that were sticking out of their mouths because it kept him from brushing his lips against theirs.

 

He wondered how they tasted and if the smell of gunpowder had buried itself deep in their skin. Now, whenever he stuck their noses in their necks, he smelled only disinfectant – but even he smelled like that after he left the hospital, never daring to come in to work wearing anything he had on while in here.

 

“You know what I should do when you two get better? Keep you in my branch until you fall asleep on a chair and then nuzzle you.” Sure he had cameras all over the place, but he could easily delete the footage and carry on as if nothing had happened. “But I won’t. Not that you’d actually stay around me that long. You’d disappear somewhere with one of my minions and then leave me with all the extra work.”

 

The fifth man practically presented himself to Q with a bow wrapped around his head. For whatever reason, the man who had done the most damage to James and kept telling him that Alec was dead because of his refusal to offer MI6 on a silver platter, arrived in London. It felt like it was Christmas and his birthday at the same time.

 

When it came to this one, Q wanted his hands as well as his voice, to ensure that he would never be able to spread lies ever again. It turned out to be a tricky thing to do and in the end, Q only managed to have all of his limbs broken when he caught him in a computer controlled revolving door. And again, the cops found that he was a wanted criminal in London so he too joined his friends in jail.

 

And now the hard part began: the complete and total annihilation of the organization that had them on their payroll as well as its owner. He wanted to cause as much harm as he could, so he started by locating all the factories that belonged to them and pretty much made every machine they had malfunction. By then, the month had been up and the people that presented themselves as technicians were MI6 agents who had the collaboration of the CIA and KGB.

 

By some strange miracle that he totally had nothing to do with, rival organizations started to muscle in on what this one was doing and they quickly lost key players and important patches of land. He had gotten so brutal that the second in command simply walked in the U.K embassy in Japan, fell on his knees and pleaded for his life, promising to tell them everything he knew.

 

That was when M called Q in his office, motioning him to sit down. “I am not complaining about how things are currently going because it makes our lives a lot easier, but I am very worried about you, Quartermaster.”

 

“I can’t imagine why you would feel the need to do so. I do not work more or less than it is expected of me and I eat on a regular basis. Medical can attest to that, since you do have them checking my weight among other things every bloody week.” And he had frankly had enough of being poked and probed on all sides by doctors.

 

M let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind the old M let out whenever Alec or James were being stubborn. “I will skip over the sherlockian explanation as to why I have all the reason to think about removing you from this position of power maybe even send you on a long vacation on an island where you’d have no access to computers.” He held his hand up to keep Q from talking, leaning closer to him. “Q, please be careful.”

 

He hid his hands in his lap when he realized that they were shaking, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves down. Snapping at M and explaining _why_ he simply had to do this and why it was best if the things concerting this organization were left in his care wouldn’t really get him anywhere but locked out of his branch. “Aren’t I always? And no innocent people have been hurt or killed, so you really have no reason to worry.”

 

M sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You sound just like them. No wonder…” He trailed off and shook his head. “You look extremely tired and R has informed me that she caught you sleeping in your office at 5 in the morning. Maybe you should take a week—“

 

“You already know my answer to that,” Q interjected. “And the time R caught me sleeping was because I had just finished helping another double oh agent finish his mission and not get killed. I think we have enough double oh agents lingering in Death’s realm already, don’t you?” His green eyes were narrowed and full of determination, managing to convince M to trust him and give him free reign without verbally lobbying for that.

 

Q continued to visit them as much as he could, barely holding himself back from jumping with joy when they finally took out all the tubes. He took to giving them pecks on the lips before he left when that happened and learned how to give someone a shave with an actual razor – and strange how no one shaved the two, despite the nurse that knew too much about his feelings telling him that they were constantly visited by all sort of people.

 

Tens of tomatoes and watermelons got ruined by the time he was sure that he wasn’t going to accidentally nick their jugular. He even asked the nurse – Eva was her name, she was a few years younger than him and loved to drink teas with him – to stay in the room with him while he shaved them for the first time.

 

She smiled at him and brushed the hair away from his eyes, checking her watch. “If you can wait ten more minutes, I’ll enter my break and be able to help you with anything you want.”

 

She returned with a small bowl of water, some towels and a bar of soap in her hands, warm and encouraging smile on her face. Q thanked her, taking a few deep breaths to stay his hand before he began. He talked with them about all sort of random little things that happened around the office or on his way home – he was careful not to reveal what they actually did – since it calmed him down.

 

“And, we’re done,” Q announced, looking quite proudly at their hairless faces. “I am sure I did it wrong and if James were awake he would have teased me about being too young to do this properly, but he prefers it like this.” He narrowed his eyes when he spotted a bit of soap on the man’s lips, gently wiping it away with his thumb. “Alec doesn’t care, but he’d probably say that I should have used a knife or a blowtorch.”

 

Eva laughed and Q didn’t tell her that he was being serious. “I’m sure they’ll thank you when they wake up.” Bells her hear for saying ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. He had gotten quite tired of accidentally hearing colleagues whispering in corners about the horrid possibility of them never waking up.

 

The second time Q shaved them, he had come bearing knowledge of the language of flowers and filled the room with hidden messages of his love for them and his wish for them to be well. But this time, it had been Eve who assisted him instead of Eva and Q was a bit tenser.

 

“Are you planning on sharing your little secret with them when they finally decide to grace us with their consciousness?” She asked after Q had put away the sharp object.

 

This was just one of the many disadvantages of working in a spy agency: if you had a secret, everybody knew it and if you didn’t, everybody was sure that you were just great at keeping it. Q was usually from the latter category, but it just so happened that Eve caught him in a period where he tended to be a bit careless so she found him out. As did the rest of MI6 – though R assured him that everyone already knew.

 

“Never sounds like a good time to share this with them and if anyone dares to even hint at the fact that I played nurse for them while they were out of it, they will be buried so deep in debts that it would take five generations to afford even a box of matches. Clear?”

 

Eve rested her hands on her hips, arching her eyebrow as if she was daring Q to do that to her out of all people. “The only reason why I won’t tell them anything is because I think they deserve to hear those three little magical words that everybody dreads to hear even though they crave them from your mouth.”

 

Q might have stuck his tongue out at her retreating form. She was insane if she really thought that was going to happen in his lifetime.

 

It took Q another three months to finally catch the mastermind and by then, all the broken bones the agents had had healed thanks to a new technology involving electromagnetic fields. They had also started to breathe on their own and the doctors were positive, although they had yet to wake up from their comas.

 

M had intervened before the equipment in the helicopter he had tried to escape in froze and caused the machine to plunge into the ground and thus, the man was now behind bars and not dead.

 

“You are not a murderer, Q.” He placed a hand on the young man’s bag only to have it shrugged off, Q retreating from him as if he was a wounded animal. “When your anger finally subsides, you will thank me for keeping you innocent in that department,” M said carefully. “You would never forgive yourself if I actually allowed you to kill him.”

 

“He deserves it and I would have done a favour to the whole world,” Q hissed. “For what he did to the woman Bond loved, for the fact that he enslaved so many to make his drugs and killed innocent children when he tested those horrid things on them. But mostly because of what he did to **_my_ ** agents.”

 

M actually looked shocked at Q, mostly because he had never heard the man raise his voice at anyone before or sound so possessive. He was really worried about his mental health. “It is very clear that you need time off, Quartermaster. And since you aren’t currently working on anything important, your two week vacation starts right now.”

 

“But—“

 

“Make that six weeks and I will add one more for every word you say. And make no mistake in thinking that your minions, R, Eve, Bill or anyone else from this agency will cover for you if they find you snooping around your office or your servers. And if I hear about that…” he trailed off and left the rest to Q’s imagination, leaning back in the chair satisfied when green eyes widened in fear. “Did I make myself sufficiently clear, _Quentin_?”

 

Q flinched at the use of his real name and nodded slowly, walking out of the man’s office without waiting to be officially dismissed. If he was on vacation, then MI6 could take its protocols and shove them up its metaphorical ass.

 

And of course R was waiting from him just outside the door, holding his satchel out to him and nibbling on her lower lip. At least she had the decency to feel bad for siding with M, the little traitor. Judases, all of them! There were snakes that he had held against his chest as he fed them knowledge.

 

“Quartermaster, do you want me to…“ She swallowed her words when she saw how Q was looking at her, even taking a few steps back and lowering her head.

 

“R, apparently when I am on _vacation_ ,” he spat that word out as if it was the vilest of poisons, “I am not the Quartermaster. Or even a boffin on MI6’s payroll. But you are still R, still a part of the branch that I am not allowed to interact with unless I want this exile of mine to be prolonged.”

 

She handed him his satchel and followed him in silence to the exit where he was searched by the security guards – all looking apologetic and explaining that they had been ordered to do so.

 

“Take good care of our agents and minions,” were his parting words and she threw herself in Q’s arms, hugging him tightly. “And most importantly, don’t overwork yourself, okay? I’ll be back in three weeks.”

 

“As if you’re the one to preach about that, Q. Come back with a tan.”

 

He went directly to the hospital and bribed his way inside. Even the people who worked in the private sector had their prices and Q was more than giving when it came to seeing the two most important people in the world.

 

The only reason why he wasn’t particularly worried about their wellbeing or the possibility of their enemies doing exactly as he did to get to them was because the janitorial staff and part of the nightshift guard were on MI6’s payroll. In fact, he was sure that M and R knew that he was there even before he fully stepped in the building.

 

He pushed the door open to their room, smile freezing on his lips when he saw that it was empty, the beds neatly done. His heart hurt and his knees shook, barely managing to reach the chair before he fell down, precious laptop lying cracked on the ground.

 

His agents had died. The first ever casualties in his time as a Quartermaster and they were the two men he cared for more than anything in this world and he hadn’t even been there to hold their hands. At least they had been next to each other and the room probably had filled with desperate nurses and doctors who tried their best to bring them back to life.

 

“But it’s still not fair,” he hiccupped, eyes stinging with the tears he was doing his best to hold back. He was the Quartermaster and a Quartermaster never cried, never showed any other sort of emotion other than irritation, exasperation and the occasional proud smile when something went right.

 

The room was suddenly too white, too big and too cold for him and his breathing became more erratic, face pushed in his knees. It took him too long to ruin the lives of those who took theirs and although he didn’t feel like he did everything for naught, it still drove him mad that they weren’t around to be assured that their mission was more than finished – the two agents had originally been tasked with finding out if a certain man with an affinity for fluffy cats and dramatic chair swirls was involved in any way with this organization, but somewhere they had decided that the empire built on drugs needed to be crushed even if it didn’t directly affect Her Majesty, Her land or Her loyal subjects yet.

 

Exhaustion finally caught up with Q and when he tried to sit up because the silence of the room was suffocating him, his body refused to listen. His limbs were too heavy, his leg muscles contracting while his hands shook. The world started to spin so fast around him that he couldn’t get air in his lungs and his head hurt so much that he was sure his brain was trying to break free of his skull.

 

“Sir, please take deep breaths and focus on me,” someone that sounded a lot like Eva was saying, gently rubbing his back. “The two gentlemen that were in here woke up three hours ago and we’re currently running a few set of tests on them.”

 

Those words brought everything to a sudden stop and Q was on his feet, bombarding the poor woman with all sort of questions. Were they okay? Were their brains damaged in any way or form? Would they be able to walk again? Were their hands shaking even in the smallest way possible? Would they limp? Because if any of the questions besides the first one had a positive answer, Q knew they could no longer be field agents and that would kill their souls.

 

She was reluctant to give him any form of information, even eyeing brushing her fingers against the pager that would have security on him in an instant a few times. Q already knew that she wasn’t the type to accept bribery and that attempting to push any money in her hands in exchange for what he wanted would convince her that sharing any form of information.

 

However, she said that there was something in Q’s eyes that told her it was okay if she complied with his request and she would tell him everything she knew as long as he agreed to let her make sure that everything was okay with him.

 

To start off, their initial tests proved that nothing was permanently damaged, at least from a physical point of view. They would get checked by a psychiatrist in the days that followed, but she was pretty sure that whatever had put the two in a coma had also left some deep indentations in their minds.

 

“When Mister Bond woke up, he seemed pretty sure that he was in danger and tried attacking the responding nurse.” The hold she had on her mug led Q to believe that she had been the nurse. “The orderlies intervened before that happened and I have to say that we are all pretty impressed with the amount of damage he managed to inflict on them.”

 

A man ended up with a broken nose, another one with a black eye and James actually bit the third one’s ear. And Q realized that he shouldn’t feel as proud as he did when he heard that or at least try to gain enough control of his facial muscles so he’d stop grinning. But he took everything as good news. James could move, his memory wasn’t affected and when he heard Alec calling out to him, he stopped and listened to what the people around him were saying which meant that he was still capable of rationalizing.

 

A rumble of voices distracted her from her story and she turned her head in the direction of the door, smiling. “That should be them now. If you want, I can sneak you in their room for five minutes after the medical staff leaves.”

 

The only time Q had moved that fast to grab someone’s hand was when one of his minions accidentally touched something that was about to explode. “I would greatly appreciate it if they didn’t know that I was here. And I am also talking about all the other times I – My laptop. I dropped it when I thought that they…” He let out a little distressed noise and Eva started to rub his back, calming him down before he could get another panic attack.

 

“It’s okay; I took care of everything.” She pointed to a table where she had deposited all the bits and pieces she gathered. “I have to go resume my rounds now and that means I have to lock you in here. If anything bad happens and the hospital needs to be evacuated, the door will unlock on its own. I will sneak you out after they go to sleep, okay?”

 

Q busied himself with putting his laptop back together, worried when he noticed that there was a single key missing – the letter ‘q’ out of all things – but reasoned that it had probably rolled somewhere out of sight. Then again, Alec and James were double oh agents who were supposed to notice if something was off so they might notice that lone ‘q’ – screw metaphors – but even if they did, there was no way they could prove that it was his.

 

Eva returned in three hours and by then, Q was struggling to stay awake. She led him to his agents and stood back as he ran his hands down their faces, feeling like a weight was lifted off of his back and a set of sharp claws got dislodged from his heart.

 

“Get well so you can go back to counting spots that aren’t there and to your rather amusing attempts of convincing me that allowing you to use me as a lifting weight is a good idea,” he whispered, throwing all caution into the window as he kissed each of them on their mouths.

 

They didn’t stir, Q sort of regretted it for about a second and then he was on his way home, to pack. He didn’t have anything to worry about now that the agents were awake, so he might as well enjoy the countryside on this forced vacation. But, for a single moment, Q had been tempted to stay back and offer to help the two until he realized that they would feel insulted by his presence and send him away so he couldn’t see just how damaged they were – as if he didn’t already know that; it made him want to wrap his arms around them and keep them in his bed until the world stopped existing.

 

Laptop stuffed under his bed and bags done, he sent M an e-mail with where he could be reached just in case they needed him and locked his apartment. He wasn’t surprised in the least when he was greeted by one of his minions at the car rental company, the young man happily presenting him with a new laptop and a special car made just for MI6 higher-ups.

 

That meant that it looked like it couldn’t go over sixty kilometres an hour but was in fact as fast as the newest Jaguar, had bulletproof windows, was armoured, had at least ten tracking devices in it that all required different methods of scrambling, was constantly connected to the internet and had a computer operated machinegun incorporated in the trunk. In short, it was one of Q’s masterpieces.

 

Q took his time getting to the little remote village, stopping in every place that caught his interest. He enjoyed the tea he made at home by the side of the road as he checked whatever files R was secretly feeding him – no one could really stand the thought of their beloved overlord being upset with them so the woman sent him lower level mission information – and occasionally hacking in the hospital’s security fee to see what the men were doing.  

 

The weather ended up being quite decent and after he was done visiting every place that could be visited in the little village, he decided to fulfil R’s request and try to get a tan. Of course he had to find some swimming trunks first and that ended up eating half of a day since it seemed that the stores in there preferred speedos.

 

Now James and Alec had the bodies to pull off speedos. Q even openly stared at the video feeds that had them in those and as an April’s Fool joke, his beloved minions had made a collage of all the high resolution pictures of the two agents in that state of undress that they could find. He, however, did not have the body for that and he like to be decently covered.

 

He was pleasantly surprised to see that his two obsessions besides technology were really serious about their recovery. However, he did note that neither of them seemed to hit on any of the nurses who all suddenly started to have uniforms that where either missing a button or a good two centimetres of their skirts. Q assumed that their libidos had been temporarily affected; James’ especially if anyone thought it a good idea to share with him that he had almost been castrated.

 

Still, three weeks in their recovery and they were walking on their own, their need to use crutches almost completely gone. He had to hand it to the two: they were more superhuman than Q gave them credit for. This had to be the speediest recovery in the history of mankind.

 

“Ha, I’ll probably end up having to hide you two from nosy doctors who might want your genes to see if you are the real-life Wolverines,” he muttered, running his hand down the laptop screen.

 

The following week, they were released from the hospital and Q lost sight of them on their way home. The libido problem had probably fixed itself by then and they needed their own special kind of healing. He could spend one extra hour trying to hack into the security cameras of the sleaziest bars he could think of, but it was already close to midnight and he was dead tired.

 

Plus, he had gotten extremely tired, had caught up with all of the shows he was watching, drew up plans for sixty three new gadgets, had finished three books and he was one shade away of looking like a fried chicken. It was high time he got back to his own flat and started working on the prototypes and he planned on leaving first thing in the morning.

 

He felt the bed dip, but in his mind he seemed to recall a fat cat that had the uncanny ability of sneaking in wherever he currently was no matter how many times Q checked to make sure that all the doors and the windows where closed so he didn’t panic.

 

It was strange when the cat started to shake him and had Alec’s voice, but he was asleep so everything could have been nothing more than a dream. A dream he quite liked because when he didn’t roll to face the agent, Alec gently rolled him on his back and started kissing him.

 

It was slow and breath-taking and Alec hummed in pleasure when Q wrapped his barely cooperating arms around his neck to keep him from moving. The man tasted like bitter coffee and cigarettes and while normally Q would have been repulsed by the former and glad that the kiss ended, he found himself missing those flavours.

 

“You did it completely wrong, Alec.” Of course James would also be there, sounding amused.

 

He imagined Alec huffing, his green eyes narrowing as he issued his friend a challenge. “I would like to see you try to do better than me and not get slapped back into a coma.”

 

Q frowned and groaned, turning back on his side. He didn’t like where the conversation was going, hating the way that word sounded. And damn it, this was his dream and he refused to allow it to go into that zone, shaking his head to shoo the images of the pale agents covered in tubes and wounds out of his mind.

 

James tangled his fingers in his wild hair, gently scratching his scalp. “Alec, you were there when Miss Eva said that our darling Q seemed to avoid using that term. We’re trying to rouse him in good spirits without outright sexually harass him, not give him nightmares.”

 

“I thought he fell back asleep.” Alec rubbed his head against his, moving to lie flat against his back. “Q, you know I would never say something that bothers you on purpose, right?”

 

The pleasant warmth disappeared and Q tried to roll after it only to get stopped by James. “I think you should give me a chance before you start picking your favourites.”

 

The taste of tea and sweets invaded his mouth and these two Q could understand because they were his favourites. When James broke the kiss he frowned and forced himself to sit up and wrap his arms around him, face hidden in his chest.

 

“More…” He managed to mutter, only then starting to realize that things felt a bit too real even for a vivid dream.

 

He only actually opened his eyes to see a slightly blurry form that definitely belonged to James only when the back of his head bumped against Alec’s chest when the man pulled him, a pained groaned coming from him.

 

“So that’s why you suddenly decided tea was better than coffee and you refused to smoke,” he wheezed out. “That’s cheating and I demand we redo the whole thing.” He released Q only to crawl painfully slow over him – grinding, really – and sit between James and him, puckering his lips.

 

But Q simply put up a hand in front of his, eyes narrowed because he was trying to get a good look at them not because he was annoyed. “I am glad to see that I really won’t have to uninstall the security system from your apartment so MI6 could sell it.” He sat still as James put his glasses on his face and Alec arranged them, hoping the two didn’t feel how hard or fast his hard was beating. “Now, what are you two doing here?”

 

James pulled something from his pocket and Q’s mouth _almost_ fell open when he saw that it was that blasted ‘q’ key. “You dropped this at the hospital.”

 

“You will be shocked, Bond, to find out that I am not the only person who owns a laptop in this world.” He grabbed the key and turned it around in his hand as he tried to figure out if there was a possibility to make a throw look like an accident.

 

Alec moved away from Q and he turned around to look what exactly he was doing, eyes widening when he saw him pull the laptop that was supposed to back at his apartment, hidden under his bed like some kind of dirty magazine.

 

Alec grinned at him. “I see you recognize it as yours which means that we can skip over the ‘not mine’ game.” He opened the laptop and pointed at the incomplete keyboard, James taking the key from Q’s hand and putting it back with little effort.

 

“Okay, so I visited you two once, tripped on your giant egos and dropped my laptop,” he admitted in a dry voice, pushing the laptop out of his face. And then, something clicked in his head and he got angry. “Don’t tell me you drove all the way out here just to rub in my face that even I damage my equipment every now and then.”

 

James turned to look at Alec, brows raised in surprise. “I honestly thought he’d be angrier that we broke into his apartment. Or at least curious as to how we found out where that den of his was.” He waited for Q to open his mouth before he brought their lips together, sneaking his tongue in his mouth.

 

Strange how all of his thoughts left his mind, especially when he felt Alec nibbling on his ear, his warm breath sending shivers down his spine. “A large flock of birds told us where you live,” Alec whispered, James holding on tighter to him when he felt that Q was trying to break the kiss. “And two beautiful birds told us of the many times you visited us while a third one showed us the video feed from our room.”

 

The need for air forced James to pull away, but Q’s hands were firmly held by the two to ensure that he didn’t try to run away. As if he’d do something like that. He had dreamt of this day for years, consumed by jealousy as he watched them pleasure countless women and cursed his heart and brain for falling for them. He wasn’t going to ruin this, even if it was only just for a single night.

 

“I frankly don’t think that there’s anyone in MI6 who doesn’t have the hots for you. I am no different.” He closed his eyes and bit Alec’s lower lip, craving for the first time in his life a cigarette.

 

James used his other hand to try and tuck some strands behind Q’s ear, quickly giving up and ruffling it instead. “No one with the hots for us went after the people who had hurt us with so much passion and hatred. And they weren’t the first ones, were they?”

 

Q sighed and closed his eyes. He had been kinder with the others because none of them had caused them so much pain. Though he knew for sure that at least five where in mental hospitals, still screaming whenever someone even showed them a picture of something electrical. And he could think of at least eleven whose weapons had exploded in their hands, although he was sure there were more.

 

He tilted his head, smirking. “If they all had some sort of dreadful accidents, you really cannot prove that I am behind them. Now,” he shrugged their hands and sat up right, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Which one of you was the driver so I know to ignore for tonight?”

 

“Oh!” Alec jumped from the bed and ran to the window, pulling it open. “You can bring our bags in!” He shouted on top of his lungs, Q extremely happy that he had rented the house that was practically isolated from the rest of the village. “Q, we forgot to bring toothpaste; can I steal yours?”

 

Q nodded and ten minutes later, Alec tasted of his strawberry toothbrush as he kissed him senseless. He vaguely registered that there was someone else in the room, the intrusive pair of eyes being blocked by James’ body, growling out orders for where the bags should be put. Q had no doubt that he was going to find a very sloppily hidden e-mail in the MI6 servers that said he was sleeping with the two when he reclaimed his branch.

 

They ended up not doing anything that night except cuddle Q between them. Alec was the first to fall asleep and James quickly followed suit. But just as Q entered that sweet land, he felt James stir behind him and suddenly sit up. He kept his eyes closed as the man took Alec’s pulse and then his, sighing in relief when he saw that they were both alive and well.

 

Q moved and pulled his hand over the one in which he had Alec’s, feeling James relax and slump against him, hiding his face in his neck. Their bodies might have been healed, but their minds were still like an opened wound.

 

That was highlighted when Q snuck to the bathroom. He didn’t think that the two men would even notice that he was missing, but just as he was turning the tap, Alec broke down the door and turned him around, starting to check for wounds while James stalked in from behind him with his weapon drawn.

 

Again, Q sat still and waited for them to realize that nothing was wrong before he resumed washing his hands. “Leave the door alone, loves.” He flinched when he realized that term of endearment left his lips, but the two men just wrapped themselves around him, breathing in his scent.

 

“I like it when you call us that,” James said honestly, somehow managing to guide all of them back to bed without tripping on the door or their own feet. “If we try not to break every door that stands between us, will you call us that more often?”

 

Q chuckled, moving his head to the side to give Alec better access to it. “I’ll call you that no matter that you break. My doors, my gadgets, my bed…” He let out a little moan and started to rub against Alec. “As long as what you break is not yourselves, I don’t really care.”

 

It served more as a plea for them to be more careful on the field, but he knew double oh agents did not die of old age. Even the one who had retired ended up dead, shot by an old enemy who had managed to find him while he was enjoying what was left of his life on a little island.

 

“We’ll do our best,” Alec whispered in his ear, starting to nibble on his earlobe as his hand trailed down Q’s chest. “As long as you are in our ears to guide us and home to wait for us, we’ll avoid the inevitable.”

 

If Q’s phone started to ring and this turned out to be an actual dream instead of blessed reality, he was going to be quite pissed. But no sharp sounds assaulted his ears, only the two men’s steady breathing as they drifted off to sleep again, James managing to find a way to hold his hands over them so he’d constantly feel their pulses.

 

Alec had his leg thrown across of them so he could feel them move and Q was a bit confused as to what he was supposed to feel. Happiness that it was confirmed that this would not stop after just one night, that was for sure. But also a need for a bit more revenge against the ones who had made _his_ agents this fragile. Maybe he’d feel better if he’d stick them in solitary.

 

In fact, he was going to poke his nose around and see how he could make that happen. All he had to do was move slightly away from James and lean over Alec and—

 

“Q, leave them and focus on us,” Alec muttered, wrapping his arms around Q’s middle and pulling him down on top of him.

 

James rolled over and started massaging his lower back, his fingers so magical that Q forgot there was anyone in the world but the three of them. Q didn’t get scared when his dream was occasionally invaded by warm fingers against his neck or soft hands that gently patted his back or his chest. He did, however, manage to move around without fully waking up to drape himself over the both of them, smiling when he felt their hands on top of his heart.

 

And after that, no one stirred or awoke anymore and the night was perfect.

 


	8. Family dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is the youngest Holmes and Sherlock and Mycroft couldn't make their dislike of his lovers any more obvious if they tried. The Christmas family dinner is the strangest and warmest the two had ever attended after their parents' deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azteka wanted Q to bring "Alec and James home to meet the parents (the Holmes' parents from Season 3 of Sherlock) during the holidays; only for the Double-00's to learn that he's the youngest Holmes and that Mycroft is M's boss."
> 
> I made Sherlock too much of an asshole, sorry.

It wasn’t that Q was ashamed of his parents or hated them. That actually couldn’t be further from the truth. His mother had instilled in him his love of numbers that opened up the world of computers to him alongside his appreciation of fine art and museums while his father taught him patience and how to appreciate comfortable clothing.

 

And his two lovers, orphaned at a young age in the most horrendous and painful way possible that left deep seeded scars in their souls and heats, would benefit from a warm, Christmas-themed dinner. In fact, when Q dropped the bomb – while letting James fiddle with a new weapon that could blow up an entire building with a single shell and allowing Alec to slice one of his battered bookcases with a laser knife – about wanting them to meet his parents during the festive season, they happily agreed to it and even became giddy.

 

Well, not visibly giddy. James was still his suave self, making people fall for him with his disarming smirk while Alec still gave off waves of danger that made everyone want him when he showed off his wolfish grin, but Q knew where to look to notice the childish glee.

 

But he also saw fear and uncertainty in their eyes. Which became even more evident the closer the Christmas dinner was approaching and the two started to stress about all sort of things such as what flowers did Q’s mother like? Was she allergic to chocolate? Would she feel offended if they brought food to a dinner that she was making? Did his father have a thing against dark coloured suits? Or were the ones in pastel colours offensive to him? Should Alec go out and order a new suit? Wait, never mind. He’ll do it because his best one looked a bit used and he didn’t want Q’s parents to think that he was a cheapskate.

 

“I learned how to dress from my father,” Q said when he’d had enough of Alec and James ignoring his nakedness in favour of a magazine that held different suit materials, patterns and colours. “So, because we practically have the same taste in clothes, according to everyone in MI6, you could wear a mismatched sack of taters and he’ll still find it proper.”

 

“We like the way you dress,” James muttered, holding the magazine right next to Alec’s eyes to see if the colour fit him or not. “Unorthodox as they may be, we can’t imagine you wearing anything else but those clothes and us.”

 

“What about what I am wearing now?” Q asked seductively, leaning his head in his palm and drumming his fingers over his bare hips.

 

“The clothing company should throw money at you, love,” said Alec without looking away from the magazine.

 

James nodded, also not looking at Q. “My latest target was a model and he’d die to look half as good as you do in those clothes.”

 

Q rolled his eyes and glided to where they were, grabbing the magazine from their hands before spreading himself in front of them. “Please tell me which article of clothing from what I am wearing right now suits me best.”

 

Their eyes were instantly clouded with lust, so at least Q could rest assured that he wasn’t being replaced by textiles. He still wanted to burn the magazine when he ended up with a paper cut on his ass – but James and Alec were trying to make it better by kissing it, so maybe he could let the stack of papers live to cut another man.

 

So no, it wasn’t his parents or his lovers looking at normal magazines – aka the ones that weren’t advertising guns, knives or explosives – for once in their lives that made him be on the edge about the dinner. No, his two elder brothers were to blame for that.

 

He was a _philistine_ compared to them. They both could tell a person’s entire life just by glancing at them once and while Mycroft was satisfied just with looking smugly and judgingly at people, Sherlock had absolutely no filter. And while Q had no doubt in his abilities – something he picked up from his brothers, which wasn’t always a good thing –to stop the two agents from shooting Sherlock, he feared Mycroft.

 

He feared the man because he was M’s boss and because he outright hated the two agents for daring to make his baby brother _feel_. He hated them because they were Q’s drugs, because they touched him and kissed him and Mycroft knew for certain that they would also make him cry and curse his life.

 

It wouldn’t be out of his character to use even the faintest snarl in his general direction to have the two agents sent as far away from Q as possible. “Really? _Those_ two?” Mycroft had said in the most condescending way possible the instant Q set foot in his office after the first wild night he had spent with his new lovers.

 

“Yes, those two and no I do not care what you want to show me that's supposed to make me see the errors of my way.” He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath when Mycroft’s assistant entered the room with a stack of papers in her arms and an apologetic look on her face. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Anthea, but I am afraid that my brother has abused your patience and keen nose once again for I shan’t even take a peek in whatever you have in there.”

 

Mycroft’s annoyance at his stubbornness was evident by how hard he’d put the cup back on the little platter, actually allowing it to make a sound. “I do not understand why you and Sherlock insist on being a pair of petulant children and refuse to listen to reason.”

 

“What is it this time, Mycroft? Did baby brother refuse to aid you take over a small or medium sized country? Or did he infect your computers with a virus because you tried to get M to fire him _again_?” Sherlock’s monotone voice came from the door and Q gulped when he rushed right next to him and started to sniff him.

 

“Tell me, brother dearest,” Mycroft started in the voice that Sherlock always took as a challenge and Q internally cringed, “what can you deduce about our baby brother?”

 

Sherlock sniffed him again, took a few steps back, glanced at his hair and huffed, crossing his hands over his chest, assuming his usual disgruntled child position. “He has two very different perfume smells on him, none of which are his regular and none female. It means that he recently spent quite a lot of time in the company of two men who favour guns and explosives.”

 

“Sherlock, I am warning you,” Q growled, narrowing his eyes.

 

“I do not sense chemicals or plastic mixed in them, so not his little minions. It must come from two field agents, dangerous ones, at that,” Sherlock continued as if he hadn’t heard Q – which he probably didn’t; the man was like a derailing train when it came to deductions. “I also deduce that they showered together since their smell is over the strawberry shower gel he favours above everything else and that they ruffled his hair on his way out since it’s not its usually messy way.”

 

Q ran his hand through his hair and glared at Mycroft. “Must we really hear this, Mycroft?”

 

“I usually ask myself that every time he opens his mouth, but this is the one instance when I do not wish to stop him.” He didn’t even have the decency to cover his toothy smile behind the blasted tea cup he held in his hand.

 

“He’s also taken to wearing the one shirt with a high collar he has in his entire wardrobe and he’s taken extra precaution to button up every one of them, despite the fact that the highest one always made it hard for him to swallow.” He narrowed his eyes and shivered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “He’s hiding vicious bite marks that resulted from…” He trailed off and shrugged.

 

“You can’t even say the bloody word, Sherlock, can you?” Q teased, grinning when he saw how disgusted the man looked. “Sex,” Mycroft choked on his tea and Sherlock glared. “I, your baby brother, had sex with two men who left behind love bites on my neck and I loved every second of it.”

 

Sherlock threw himself in the chair across from Q and let out a sight in the most dramatic way possible. “I fail to understand how anyone can find the exchange of bodily fluids while grunting like animals pleasurable.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, but his grin turned into a little smile as he remembered his encounter. “It is not the exchange of fluids that’s pleasurable, Sherlock. It’s—“

 

“Can we not discuss our baby brother’s sexual encounters with two men who are unable to have a normal relationship with anyone but themselves?” Mycroft cut in, metaphorically slapping Q in the face. “Don’t look so hurt. You know they can’t and please, I beg of you, tell me that you are aware of the fact that you were nothing more than their latest source of entertainment.”

 

He looked towards Sherlock for support, but the man had gone offline. The consulting detective was too busy moving files around his head and selecting which ones he deemed out-dated and perfect for deletion so he could store the new information. And that scared Q because Sherlock was making an active effort to remember that his baby brother had sex with two men.

 

“We had sex eight times yesterday and twice in the shower today.” Q was going to have the last word even if it made him blush.

 

And he got the desired effect, Mycroft spilling his tea all over his precious, mahogany desk in his rush to change the subject. “For God’s sake! Don’t tell mother that when you take her to see ‘Hamlet’ next week! And don’t look sad when they move on to the next shiny new person. I imagine they'll be too busy using their horrible lines on them to notice that you were foolish enough to _actually_ fall for them.”

 

The week passed, Q was still the only human the two were interested in and his mother instantly knew by how relax, fell fed and happy he was that someone had managed to sneak in his life and make order.

 

“When will I get to meet the person who’s making my baby happy?” She asked as soon as the play ended, cupping his face and kissing his cheeks. “Or is it too early for that? It has to be too early since last month you still had bags under your eyes and you didn’t have a constant smile on your face.”

 

It was easy to see where they all got the ‘ability’ to read people just by looking at them. “I hope that I’ll introduce them,” he glanced at his mother to see if she was shocked or upset, but only found the kind smile mirrored by his father on her face, “by Christmas. And please tell Mycroft to leave them alone. And Sherlock to butt out of my life. I think he’s planning on _accidentally_ meeting them before I am ready to introduce them to our not-quite-normal family.”

 

His mother clicked her tongue in disapproval, but it was his father who started talking. “I hope you are not ashamed of—“

 

“No!” Q jumped in, gently touching the man’s arm and smiling at him. “I never felt ashamed of my family and no one will ever make me feel that. It’s just that…” He trailed off, but his parents understood, his mother caressing the back of his neck and his father squeezing his shoulder.

 

Whatever threats his mother made worked more than perfect, because Sherlock refused to talk to him for three months and Mycroft shook his head in a very disappointed way during their next lunch. But at least the missions his lovers were sent on stopped being outright suicidal and when Q asked for an immediate extraction, M could grant it to him without having to explain herself to anyone.

 

However, just because they kept their distance, it didn’t meant that his brothers had accepted his lovers – they had yet to prove themselves, for once – or that their curiosity was gone. He still caught glimpses of Sherlock hovering around MI6 – and thank God for the good doctor and his wife who always showed to drag away the consulting detective before someone else other than Q noticed him – and Mycroft casually slipped in their conversations the names of the many people James and Alec had slept with.

 

“This dinner is going to be a disaster,” Q grumbled, forcing himself to smile when James entered his field of vision holding a scarf, Alec right behind him with a cardigan that looked like it might fit Q’s father. 

 

His lovers caught on to the fact that something was off and wrongly assumed that Q was afraid that they’d end up either blowing up his house or sleeping with every one of his neighbours. How exactly they reached that conclusion was beyond Q, but it was amusing to see the two sitting as still as possible in the middle of his office, hands tucked behind their backs, trying to prove that they could keep away from explosives.

 

He wasn’t surprised in the least when, five minutes later, his office was on fire and Q branch was being evacuated. And of course this incident happened on the same day they were supposed to hop in their car and drive over to Q’s childhood home.

 

“Well, at least we’ll get to leave earlier,” Q said in an attempted cheerful tone as he helped the nurse wrap gauze around Alec’s left hand. “Which is good, considering that I actually respect the traffic laws,” he chuckled and James glared at both of his bandaged hands. “Don’t fret about it, James. The doctor said that none of you will have permanent damage or scars and in two weeks–”

 

“It’s not that, Q,” James interrupted him, flinching when he put his hands on the side of Q’s head. “Your parents will think us invalid or that we endanger you.” Which technically, they did. Not on purpose, no But by being double oh agents and by having Q as their Quartermaster.

 

Q clicked his tongue, frowning. “I’d be in danger even if I wasn’t your lover. In fact, I am safer sleeping between the two of you than I’d be on my own." He pushed his glasses back up his nose, clasping his hands in front of him. "Now, aren’t you both happy that I pranced around naked last night and didn’t let any of you touch me until you had everything packed?”

 

The instant he said that, the nurse left the room to give them privacy, which was funny because most people had no problem staying when the three exchanged kisses or touches. But the moment one of them voiced the fact that they were in a relationship, it was as if they dropped a grenade in the middle of the room and people needed to evacuate.

 

“Not really, because we lost precious ‘touching you’ time,” Alec grumbled, leaning close to Q to get kissed. “Well, actually James might be more upset than me. I still have one good hand,” and he rubbed Q’s ass to prove his point and spite James, the man who was ultimately at fault for everything blowing up.

 

Yet James was not boiling mad and instead, he carefully crossed his hands over his chest, looking smugly at Alec. “All that means is that you both need to take extra care of me. And since you are horrible at taking care of people, Q will have to do the extra touching.”

 

Q pulled them out of Medical and got them home before they could manage to do more damage to themselves, banishing them to the back seat until they ‘learned how to act their age’. When they got home and Q set about helping them wash and dress, for the first time since they became intimate, the two men did not try to distract him and they even turned away when Q tried to start something.

 

Well, at least he knew for sure that he wouldn’t have to worry about either one of his brothers bursting in his room while they were getting intimate because the two men would likely insist on sleeping on the floor or something. That was, _if_ they stuck around for night to come.

 

“Q, everything’s going to be okay,” James whispered in his ear, placing a kiss on it.

 

Alec placed his good hand on Q’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “Yes, we promise. We are spies and we constantly pretend to be what we aren’t. Playing the nice little businessmen is something we did a thousand times before.” And each time, they showed their true colours before they were supposed to, but there was no reason for Q to point that out.

 

Still, they weren’t the reason why Q was on the edge. And he opened his mouth to assure them of that, but the car door was pulled open and Sherlock threw himself in the seat next to him, hands clasped under his chin.

 

“By the surprised looks on your faces and your slightly parted mouths, I can tell that you recognize me, so you can stop reaching for your guns.” He smirked when the two men moved their wounded hands back where he could see them. “Mother won’t be too happy to hear that you’ve been playing with explosives again, Quintus.”

 

Q growled. “If either one of you makes even one bloody reference…” He trailed off and focused his anger back on Sherlock. “I imagine that she’ll be just as happy when she hears that you started smoking again and that a bullet grazed your hand.

 

The man pulled the coat tighter around himself, eyes narrowed. “I’ll make sure you get stuck with taking them to every musical that plays in London for the next year.”

 

“Some detective you are, Sherlock,” Q snorted. “That’s not a punishment for me because I actually _like_ musicals. So much so that James even got me tickets for the new season, so I will gladly take mother and father with me.”

 

The insult didn’t even make Sherlock frown, but Q didn’t actually expect the man to even notice it – if one really wanted to rile him up, John would have to be their target, but Q actually liked the good doctor. “James? Who’s this James?”

 

The man in question cleared his throat and flashed Sherlock a tense smile. “Bond, James Bond. I am—“

 

“The recovering alcoholic, emotionally unstable, blond haired, Casanova who comes from nobility. Orphaned, but then again, almost every double oh agent is parentless since they make the best recruits.” He was unaffected by the guns glued to the back of his head, too busy digging around Q’s car for something. “I shan’t tell mother that you two sleep around if you give me the pack of cigarettes that’s in here somewhere.”

 

Before Q could ask his lovers to leave his brother alone, the front door opened and his mother stepped out. The guns were back in their holsters in an instant and Sherlock disappeared from the car, avoiding looking his mother in the eyes as he entered the house – both Alec and James got the impression that her glare could easily match M’s.

 

“So, you’re Quintus Holmes, brother of the detective Sherlock Holmes?” Alec spoke up after one minute of awkward silence, dissolving into laughter while James did his best to cover up his chuckles with coughs.

 

This was the precise reason why he refused to reveal his name to the two men. He knew it was a ridiculous, pompous name that really wouldn’t have been helped by his posh accent and he also just preferred being called Q. Plus, thanks to Sherlock, being a Holmes usually resulted in all sort of questions regarding the man and how it was to be his brother – tiresome – if he felt stupid compared with him – no, Q was a genius in another field and he was proud of that –or if he was jealous of him – why were people so stupid?

 

Q unbuckles his seatbelt, fuming. “I dare you to look my mother in the eye and mock the names she gave us.” He got out of the car and slammed the door shut, starting to stomp towards his childhood home. The faster they got to know Sherlock and met Mycroft, the faster he could try to get over the crumbled relationship.

 

“Q, we were joking,” James called after him, ignoring his stinging hands. “The name fits you and only you.” He wrapped himself around his young lover, nuzzling his neck. “I promise we won’t ever mention it unless you want us to call you that.”

 

Alec tilted Q’s head back, rubbing their noses together. “Though, the name Quintus makes me want to fall to my knees and worship you.”

 

Q hummed. “Now that, I want to see.” He moved his head to the side just when Alec wanted to kiss him, grinning. “And you can start worshiping me by bringing back all the wonderful weapons I bestow upon thee to battle thy enemies.”

 

“006, 007, I would appreciate it greatly if you two would cease harassing your Quartermaster and my baby brother right where I can see you,” Mycroft’s disgusted voice cut through their private world, the man leaning on his umbrella right next to them. “I do so hate paperwork and there is a lot of it when it comes to filing a complaint against two double oh agents.”

 

It was common by now for the two men to turn into Q’s living shield, although Q’s hands on their shoulders kept them from pointing their weapons at the intruder. “He’s the third and last Holmes child; he’s suffering from a bigger God complex than Sherlock and you might remember him as the smug looking git that attends some of the MI6 meetings.”

 

“Ah yes. I remember him,” James muttered, eyes narrowed. “He’s the one that M keeps trying to murder with her glare.”

 

“I am the one who keeps MI6 afloat when it has agents who somehow managed to go through an entire year’s budget in a single mission. And not together, mind you.” He dusted his suit, but the front door open and the woman cleared her throat. “But let’s not discuss anything work related on such a _joyous_ holiday. Especially since I just finished looking over a report—“

 

“Myc!”

 

The name had Mycroft turn his head around so fast that James had hoped he broke his own neck. “My name is ‘Mycroft’, mother. And you should know that since you are the one who named me.” He stomped away from the trip\o, stopping at the door to kiss his mother’s cheeks and present her with the little bag he had in his hands, quickly getting dragged inside the house.

 

Q nodded his thanks to his mother, sighing. “We should go in before a war starts between my brothers about who is more right about how you two are.” He dusted James’ suit and fixed Alec’s tie, smiling when each stole a kiss from him. “Just, please don’t shoot my brothers. I do care for them.”

 

“We’d never do anything to make you sad, Q,” James promised him as they opened the trunk of the car to take the gifts out. “Still, if you think you’d be happy with them gone...” He trailed off, chuckling when Q pretended to think about his offer.

 

The door was open even before they knocked on it, Q’s mother greeting them with a kind smile and warm eyes. She hugged her son, ran her hand through his wild hair, saying that he always find a way to outdo Sherlock – the man in question snorting from the wall he was leaning on – and then focused on Alec and James.

 

“So you two are the men who captured my darling Qutie’s heart.” She smiled even as Q groaned, putting her hand on his neck. “Now, now, don’t act like your brother. You have never been bothered by my nickname for you until today.”

 

“Which is, if I may, a very adorable nickname,” Alec joined in, vibrating with mischief. “We might—“

 

“—end up sleeping on the sofa if we call him that,” James pointed out, stopping himself from going over to Q and kissing his neck.

 

Mycroft poked his head in the room then, dabbing a napkin on the corners of his mouth. “I know this if the first time you meet the parent’s of one of your _conquests_ , but I thought you had enough common sense not to discuss your sleeping arrangements in front of them. Especially since the relationship is already out of the ordinary since it is between _three men_.”

 

The way the two agents looked would have been funny if Q didn’t love them. Their eyes where wide and darting around the room as if they were looking for the quickest exit. This wouldn’t happen normally; the two men would charm their way out of whatever corner they managed to back themselves in and Q hated Mycroft for making them feel like they were on their first mission.

 

He moved to them, placed his hands on their necks, trying to calm them down and let them know that everything was okay. He’ll deal with Mycroft later, infect every one of his computer with horrible viruses and make it so that his precious Club will have the most obnoxious music he could find playing on a constant loop for at least six months.

 

“Myc, go help your father in the kitchen with the tea.” She turned to glare at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips. “And Sherlock, I know I taught you better than to eavesdrop, so come down here and help Q with the luggage.”

 

She liked her arms with the two men’s and guided them to the living room, sitting them down on the sofa and relieving of the presents they had for her and her husband. She noticed the bandages in their hands then and started to fret, the two lost about how they should react – Medical _had_ to fret since it was their job and when Q worried, they’d kiss him, promise to be more careful in the future and then distract him from scolding them too much.

 

But this was Q’s mother. She didn’t have to worry about them and yet she did. Kissing her in an attempt to soothe her worry was also out of the question, not because she was Q's mother or because she wasn't attractive, but because she wasn't _Q_. When Q’s father joined them with the tea, his kind eyes also filled with worry, they regretted not having a minion whispering in their ear how they were supposed to act.

 

“I remember going through insane amounts of Aloe based ointments when Sherlock and... I am sorry boys, what do you call my youngest?” He was genuinely embarrassed for that, although there was no reason.

 

“Q,” they both said in unison, James glaring at Mycroft as the man insisted he take a hot cup.

 

“I know you don’t drink tea so I made coffee especially for you.” James wanted nothing more than to throw the coffee on that annoyingly smug face. It was a complete miracle that M hadn’t tasked any of the double oh agent to _accidentally_ kill Q’s brother.

 

“Do not bully our guests, Mycroft,” Q’s mother saved the day again. “And don’t interrupt your father.” She cupped her husband’s face and smiled at him in a similar manner Q did to them. “Go on, darling. You were saying about Q,” she chuckled when she said that, “and Sherlock and our need for a lot of ointments when it came to them.”

 

“Ah, yes; they were curious children. Sherlock loved mixing my wife’s chemicals and Q stuck a screwdriver in everything electronic.” He stopped smiling suddenly, his wife grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “If I had reacted a little faster back then, Q wouldn’t have needed to wear glasses now.”

 

Q rarely talked about his past and his family – then again, no one could be blamed for avoiding mentioning they were a Holmes – and his father seemed to be the answer to James’ and Alec’s metaphorical prayers. It was obvious that he was that kind of man who easily talked about everything that he was asked, if the interview took place in a cosy and friendly environment.

 

They itched to ask for more information, to see what had happened to Q’s eyes and if they needed to strangle one of his brothers – Sherlock, probably, since he was the one who was playing with chemicals. However, it wouldn’t be the same if they tricked Q’s father into talking about their lover’s childhood and it would also be disrespectful and sneaky, turning Q into nothing more than a target they needed to find info about. And that was not right; their relationship was based on trust, so when Q felt like it was the right time, he would talk about his past and share his childhood memories and adventures with them.

 

“I am sure that whatever happened couldn’t have been prevented,” James said carefully, looking at his own hands. “And you needn’t blame yourself; Q does the same whenever we end up wounded.”

 

“Which is not something that happens often or because of what we do,” Alec added hurriedly, smiling awkwardly. “We just can’t help but poke around his office and touch everything he works on. But he’s never been in danger because we wait for him to be away before we do that.” He drank the tea in a single sip, ignoring the way it burned his throat and tongue. “Not that we sneak around him—“

 

“—my laptop is not helping me, Sherlock,” Q’s annoyed voice interrupted Alec, the man sighing in relief as he leaned against James. “At least hold the bloody door open.”

 

The two men jumped on their feet and rushed to take all the bags from Q’s hands, ignoring the man when he tried to talk them out of it. Alec even managed to grab the laptop from Sherlock’s hands with his teeth, growling at him as Q started to show them to where his room was – the attic.

 

“Sherlock took the basement, I took the attic. Mycroft was the only one of us who was satisfied with an actual room,” Q explained as they reached his room.

 

Sherlock huffed, busy texting someone – probably insulting the detective inspector or complaining about having been forced to do something to the poor doctor. “Mycroft simply abhors any form of physical labour.” Pot, meet kettle. “There were too many stairs to climb back up if he took the basement and he’d have to go up two flights of them if he took the attic.”

 

James slammed the trap door shut, dropping the bags over it to ensure that Sherlock wasn’t going to enter after them. He looked around the room, searching for a chair to drag over, surprised at how completely devoid of technology it was. It was filled with books and notebooks, but the pieces of computers and various appliances that had filled Q’s apartment at one point were nowhere in sight.

 

Q collapsed on the bed and James and Alec followed his example, forming a protective bubble around him. He sighed in content as Alec started to rub one of his shoulders, easing some of his tension while James placed soft kisses on his cheek.

 

“Your family is very lively,” James muttered. “And you are a very strong man for putting up with such brothers.”

 

“Very, very strong man,” Alec added, climbing on top of Q and covering his face in kisses, using his good hand to poke his sides. “Handsomer too. We should thank them for keeping everyone that was drawn to you like moths to a flame until we met you. Although I think they’re a step away from taking out the pitchforks and torches to run us out of your life.

 

“They won’t do that because they fear what I can do with a computer and a bad temper.” Q hummed, pleased to feel the headache slowly go away. “You piqued Sherlock’s interest and without John here to remind him that it’s not okay to treat others like experiments, he’ll poke and probe you until he finds which button he needs to push in order to make you angry.”

 

“Please, even Lestrade can tell that the easiest way to do that is to pick on you,” Sherlock’s voice came from the window, his eyes narrowing when the two agents completely covered Q’s body with theirs. “Mother said that dinner will be served in fifteen minutes. That should be more than enough to change their bandages if they keep their hands to themselves.”

 

He disappeared and James didn’t feel guilty for wishing the man broke his legs on his way down. Especially since he felt Q tense up under them and he remembered that the man had pulled off a wonderful scam a few years back in which he supposedly jumped off a building – Q had been really grouchy whenever he saw a newspaper with Sherlock’s face on it in that period and now they finally understood why.

 

“We can stick him in the hospital for a few months and make everything look like an accident,” Alec offered, already pulling the bandages and ointments from one of Q’s bag.

 

“As if a hospital would stop Sherlock. He dealt with a major security problem while he was recovering from a potentially deadly gunshot wound.” He looked up from James’ hands, eyes narrowed as both of his lovers avoided looking at him. “I wonder why that sounds extremely familiar.”

 

They were saved by a text message from Mycroft, threatening to give Sherlock access to the agents’ physical files – Q made a quick note to send a double oh who could actually act like a spy and not like a movie action star to retrieve them so he could burn them – if they didn’t come down in ten minutes.

 

“Don’t be surprised if my brothers will take to visiting us every ten minutes tonight. I think they have something against us being intimate,” Q muttered in such an adorable way that the two did not care how hard their hands hurt when they entangled their fingers in his hair to kiss him.

 

The dinner was pleasant, despite a few tense moments in which Sherlock hinted at the two agents’ honeypot missions – miraculously, it had been Mycroft who put a stop to that by calling the good doctor. But Q’s mother pretended not to get the hints and continued to treat the two with the same kindness and warmness she had when they entered her house and she knew nothing of them.

 

“Work is work,” she told the two after sending Q to the kitchen with his brothers to wash the dishes. “As long as my baby boy is happy and _safe_ , I will not pay attention to whatever Sherlock and Mycroft have to say regarding your work ethics.” She put her cup down and fixed them with a glare that managed to make them uncomfortable. “However, should I hear that a single tear rolled down his cheek because of you…”

 

They got the point even if she didn’t finish and they respected her even more – if that was possible, since being the mother of the three Holmes boys already put her on the same pedestal as M – for openly threatening two most dangerous double oh agents in MI6’s history.

 

“Mother! Sherlock put frozen frogs in the sink again! And he’s cutting one on my work laptop!” Q interrupted the serious conversation, the woman instantly rushing to stop a war from breaking out.

 

Q’s father continued to sip his tea, unaffected by the childish bickering. “After we finish our tea, my wife and I will retreat to our room. You do not have to follow our example since it is still early and you are still young, but I must warn you that Sherlock will probably be the one who will give the wakeup call at seven AM, if we are lucky.”

 

The two were used to get by with little sleep, but they wanted Q to get as much rest as it was possible so, after he was done with the dishes and he made sure that his laptop hadn’t been affected by Sherlock’s little dissection experiment, they convinced him to come to bed.

 

“You’ll get to open your gifts faster that way,” James whispered in his ear, ignoring the glares he was getting from Mycroft who looked like he wanted to grab his umbrella and smack him over the head until he unhanded his baby brother.

 

Alec actually pushed a muffin in Sherlock’s mouth when he saw him open it. “We’d like to keep it a surprise for him, if it’s all right with you, Mister Holmes.” He also poured him another cup of tea when Sherlock started to act like he was choking. "Drink slowly. I, myself, have been in your position many times before and the way you drink what you are given is what makes or breaks your case." 

 

***

 

Q did his best to ignore the complaining Sherlock that had taken refuge on the floor in his room as he buttoned up James’ silk pyjamas. Alec was walking around the room, checking out the window and in every possible place someone could hide, Q shushing his brother before he could mock the agent for doing something that was practically written in his DNA code.

 

By the time he was done with his room sweep, he had crushed ten hidden microphones and threw five cameras outside, Q looking extremely smug. “You know they’re good agents, Mycroft. And you are lucky he got to them before I could boot up one of my programs that would have made your ears bleed." He tried to crush that last microphone in his teeth, but Alec took it from him.

 

"You chipped your tooth the last time you did something like this, love." He easily disposed of the microphone and placed a chaste kiss on Q's slightly pouting lips.

 

When Q moved to helping Alec with his sleeping clothes and Sherlock pulled out a sleeping bag from God knows where, alarm bells went off in Q’s head. “You have your own room, Sherlock. Use it.”

 

“I don’t like the way my room smells. And this bag is big enough for two, so—“

 

“The only people who are sleeping in this bed with me will be James and Alec.” Q sighed and rolled his eyes when Sherlock gave him that confused look, pointing at each of his lovers as he said their names again.

 

“Recovering womanizer and almost traitor, got it.” He held up his sleeping bag, missing the fact that Q practically had to throw himself in the men’s laps to keep them from attacking him. “As former soldiers and active field agents, they’ll like the floor a lot better than your bed.”

 

This time, it was James and Alec who had to keep Q from throwing himself at his brother, although they were really temped to let their kitten have a go at the man. They quickly understood that Sherlock didn’t know how to interact with people who weren’t used to his way of being and that he didn’t care to learn how to do that.

 

It was also glaringly obvious that Sherlock was doing his best to cockblock them in order to protect his younger brother and his no longer existing virginity. Frankly, they were surprised that Mycroft hadn’t wormed his way in Q’s room by then, but they were sure the man was too busy working another angle, one that probably involved M.

 

“One more bloody peep out of you and I will roll you out of my room,” Q promised as he tangled his feet with James and used Alec as his pillow.

 

Things would have probably quieted down after that, but James and Alec simply couldn’t hold themselves back from giving Q his goodnight kisses. Not even a second later, Sherlock threw himself on the bed, outright pushing Alec and James away from his brother while declaring that his back was hurting and that John had forbade him from sleeping on hard surfaces.

 

“Then use your bed! Or share with Mycroft if you can’t be bothered to use the very comfortable sofa.” His eye twitched when Sherlock let out the fakest snore he had ever heard and moved to pinch his cheek. “That’s it. Tomorrow we’re renting a hotel room and I am booby trapping it.”

 

Sherlock eventually ended up on the floor, his zipped up sleeping back preventing him from putting up a proper fight with the two double oh agents and silently fumed for ten minutes as he watched them turn into octopi and clinging to a happy looking Q.

 

When the first rays of light started to sneak inside the room, their mother quietly entered and simply glared at Sherlock until he picked his sleeping back and crawled back to his own room.

 

“Honestly, Sherlock. You don’t see your father and I trying to muscle our way into your life. And Mycroft does it out of his own free will, although he does have our blessings,” she muttered as she waited for her middle child to get in his bed before tucking him in. “And just you wait until John finds out about how you tried to get between them. And poured salt over old wounds.”

 

Sherlock flinched at the mention of John. “Mother, they sleep around constantly and ‘Q’,” he rolled his eyes in disgust at the letter, “has to listen in on that and make sure they don’t get shot. I am simply trying to avoid being forced into doing something as tedious as giving him napkins to cry his eyes out when the inevitable happens.”

 

His mother shook her head and left the man to grumble to himself since his mind had already shifted to a case that he appeared to currently be working on. She made her way back to Q’s room, making sure everyone was tucked in before running her hands through James’ and Alec’s hair.

 

The instant the door was closed, the two agents opened their eyes and glanced at each other, confused about the warmth that they were feeling inside their chests. They were happy that Q had been raised in a home so filled with love, even if his brothers had very strange ways of showing the young man affection and they were glad that his parents had accepted them.

 

“Still moving to a hotel later today, right?” Alec whispered and James nodded, Q opening one.

 

“Of course. Sherlock is planning on serenading us with his violin tonight and Mycroft’s been quiet enough to make me think that he’s going to spring a surprise mission on us. Insufferable gits.” He didn’t hide his warm smile even as he insulted them, snuggling closer to his two lovers. “I’ll let you shove that violin up his arse if he starts playing it before ten in the morning.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. The two agents end up crashing in Q's apartment during a mission. The place is awfully small and the furniture is scarce and Q gets upset whenever they break something.
> 
>  
> 
> Lovely thundernight asked for out trio’s gaming preferences. My muse got distracted so it ended up only as a small reference in it, but I tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for you kudos and comments. Warms my black heart to see people enjoying what I create.

Q was born in poverty. He was the smallest of the five children, but also the smartest. It was his brains that got him in a good school and then a good university on scholarships. He got on fine, then he discovered hacking and did a little better by charging companies to help them improve their security systems and then he stumbled into MI6’s servers.

 

He was preparing himself to go to jail when he was offered to work for them and he instantly took the offer. Not because he was afraid of jail – hackers are quite loved in environments like those and he could have become a prized possession for a crime lord – but because he could legally create programs, hack complicated systems and build all sort of dangerous things that would help good people.

 

Most of what he was paid was redirected towards his family, Q living quite happily in a small studio apartment, buying cheap clothes and spoiling himself with good tea every now and then. When he got promoted to Quartermaster and his pay got increased, the only really expensive things he bought for himself was a cardigan – all of his schoolmates had tons of them and he had always wanted at least one that wasn’t being devoured by moths – and a semi-decent suit.

 

The acquisition of the suit was a direct cause of James Bond, MI6’s golden boy in the double oh department and a complete disaster when it came to money spending. Q could tell from a single glance that the man had no problem tossing money left and right, parking his expensive Aston Martian or Jaguar in the best spot second only to M’s – technically speaking, James was parking his car in the Quartermaster’s spot, but Boothroyd before him preferred riding a bicycle to work and Q couldn’t bring himself to buy a car – and always wearing an brand new, expensive suit.

 

He had no problem with that, of course. It was his hard earned money and he was entitled to spend them however he liked. Back when he was a simple Q branch technician, he admired the agent every time he waltzed in, often forgetting what he was working on in favour of drooling over the man. It was amazing how he knew to pick a suit to accentuate the right things and him and what colour brought out those amazing blue eyes of his.

 

And then he interacted with the man as a Quartermaster and labelled him a bloody threat to his branch’s funds. He was a good agent, yes, worthy of the golden boy title, but did he really have to destroy so many of his gadgets? It didn’t matter that Q wasn’t spending _his_ actual money to have everything made, but he took it personally when attention was being brought to his department because they went, once again, over budget.

 

It didn’t matter how many times Q asked him nicely – and then outright threatened him to key his car if he didn’t do as he said – to be more careful with what he was given. James still threw earwigs in champagne glasses as if they were ice cubes, blow up expensive and ‘personalized’ cars as if they were toys and treat all other gadgets as if they were defective boomerangs.

 

Major Boothroyd had the exact same problem with the man, but Q had thought that, since he seemed to eye-fuck him every time they met and shamelessly flirted whenever he was on the coms even if James was practically bleeding to death, he would respect his wishes. He quickly realized just how wrong he had been into thinking that.

 

And if only God had been so kind to him to only curse him with one budgetary leech. But no, Q must have done something horrible in a past life because he was also plagued with having to also deal with Alec Trevelyan. Again, a good agent, a wonderful person that was full of life, another man that wormed his way in Q’s heart, but also a plague on Q’s budget.

 

At least they seemed apologetic for causing Q so much trouble and he really couldn’t stay mad at them for too long because it was either them or Q’s gadgets. And between losing them, his agents, his sort of friends as well as his secret crushes and a bunch of objects he could always easily rebuild, well then fuck technology and fuck the fat bureaucrat that stunk of expensive cheese and wine who chewed him out at the end of each trimester.

 

The two’s apologies usually came in the form of teas and sweets, which Q loved. Never in his life had he tasted something as divine as what the two brought him. He had started to get so excited about eating the sweet treats that once he tried a chocolate in front of the two and moaned in pure pleasure without realizing it. Of course Alec and James had teased him about that and offered to make him moan from a different reason, Q quickly shooting them down and ordering them out of his office.

 

“Your wish is our command,” Alec said as he bowed low, trying and failing to grab Q’s hand so he could kiss it.

 

“He’ll ambush you in the parking lot if you don’t let him do that,” James pointed out, blue eyes shimmering with amusement.

 

“I don’t have a car. I take the bus to work,” Q blurted out, causing the two agents to actually gasp in shock. “What? Does the concept of sharing a car with more than three people scare you that much?”

 

“More like we are offended that you’re rubbing against other people that aren’t—” he grunted when James elbowed him, Q raising an eyebrow, “MI6 approved and they might end up kidnapping you.”

 

“You are not driving me home,” Q cut in before James could open his mouth. “You can say whatever you want, but know that you’re going to waste your breath.”

 

They ended up being his personal car service whenever they weren’t on missions. Q had no idea how that happened, but it did. They didn’t ask him why his apartment building looked the way it did or why they had to go to the bad part of London, although he was sure it was eating them on the inside.

 

Not that it took them more than two months to actually get inside his apartment, using an ongoing mission that landed them back in London as an excuse. They had gone off the radar, as it was usual for them, but not before letting Q know that he shouldn’t really worry for them and that it was part of their plan. Two days later, just when Q had finally found the right spot and got ready to sleep, someone knocked at his window – he was living on the ninth floor, so he did reach for the weapon he had under his pillow.

 

“Q? Q, it’s us, let us in,” Alec’s voice broke the tense silence and Q sighed, relieved. Not that thieves or assassins knocked on glass before entering an apartment, but you never know.

 

“Heaven forbid you two do something the normal way. I do have a door, you know,” Q muttered as he opened the window, stepping aside to let his two wayward agents in. “What do you need me to do and which one of you is shot and which one is stabbed? And don’t pretend you’re fine because I smell blood.”

 

No sooner had he stepped back from the window because, after he pocketed the USB sticks that had been shoved in his face, both men practically fell on top of him. He really tried his best to keep them up straight, but there was no possible way for him to do that so he fell on his back, cussing under his breath.

 

He was slightly worried that they might have been hurt badly, but it seemed that they simply wanted to nuzzle him as if they were dogs for a few moments. They jumped away from him and pulled him up, Alec pushing him in James’ arms while he checked the apartment.

 

“This all you have?” He opened the only other two doors, one that led to the bathroom and the other to the kitchen, pulling a face. “It’s kind of small. Your computers occupy so much room that you don’t even have a sofa. I’m surprised you have such a large bed. You spend all your money on computers.”

 

Q really hoped to avoid discussing personal money with them. That was one of the many reasons why he hadn’t wanted them to know where he was living or how his apartment looked like – the most important reason being that he wasn’t sure he could turn either one of them away if they outright asked him to sleep with them.

 

“They are MI6 issued, if you must know. And that bed is more comfy than anything you have slept on in your entire life.” Or so he assumed. He had never been in a fancy hotel in his entire life while the double ohs were usually accommodated in the best he could find.

 

When he heard that, Alec readied himself to jump, but thankfully James intervened by reminding him that he was the one who got knifed and that it was rude to bleed all over their host’s bed. “I’m the shot one, Q. But it’s more of a graze than anything else.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He knew James’ type of graze and they all needed stitches. Alec was probably going to refer to his wood as nothing but a scratch, despite the fact that blood was seeping through his shirt. He honestly hoped that he had everything he needed in the two medical kits he kept under his sink.

 

“Tell me, 007, do simple grazes usually come with their own bullet firmly lodged in? I mean, I know that I am not a field agent, but I know a gunshot wound when I see one.” Q felt a headache coming on, but that was always the case when these two were involved.

 

James shrugged, wincing when he did so, smirking at Q. “I’ve been shot so many times that I must have mixed the wounds between them. Also, to be quite honest, I am a bit dizzy right now.”

 

Q cringed internally. It was a good thing that the bullet was still inside of James, that much he knew. But if he was already dizzy, then he really didn’t want to think about how Alec was holding up or if he was going to see how the man’s intestine’s looked like the second he removed the makeshift bandages.  

 

“006, if your scratch is as bad as this, slap yourself before I do it.” When the agent did as he was told, Q knew he hadn’t the tools nor the abilities required to save the two from possible – certain – death. “I’m calling in a sort of favour to someone from medical. Adam may be new compared to the others, but he is quite good at what patching people up and no, I don’t really care to listen to why you think that is a bad idea.”

 

Alec outright pouted and dropped his head on James’ shoulder, nuzzling it. “And here we were, hoping that it would be your warm hands touching and caressing us,” he muttered and James moved to caress the side of his face with a sort of carefulness that Q had never seen the agent use before.

 

By the time Adam showed up, it was more than clear to him that the two were a couple, a happy one at that. Alec had started whispering things in Russian in James’ ear, causing the other to smile softly at him, subtly caressing his hand. Q got over the shock of that realization pretty fast – his chest feeling strangely empty, as if his heart had dropped somewhere in his stomach – and excused himself.

 

Adam was more than happy to come to his aid, not bothering to ask him why he was being instructed to bring blood bags, suturing threads and other such things. He had a crush on Q and would have done anything and everything the Quartermaster would have asked of him and on some level, Q realized that he should feel ashamed of using that. But he was the Quartermaster and it was his duty to ensure that _his_ agents finished their missions alive.

 

Plus, he had made it clear to the man on numerous occasions that there would never be anything between them, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn’t his fault that the young doctor still hoped to persuade him to give the relationship a try – the man wasn’t pushy or suffocating, so Q didn’t feel like he was harassed whenever it was just the two of them in a room.

 

He accidentally walked in on the two men kissing and his reaction wasn’t as neutral as he would have like it. He dropped the two bottles of water he was holding and turned with his back at them, apologizing for interrupting them.

 

“We have no problem with you watching us,” Alec slurred out. “In fact, we—“

 

“We are hoping that this doesn’t bother you,” James continued for him, grabbing Alec’s extended arm and tucking it at his chest. “You didn’t seem to mind when you were equipping either one of us for those few missions when we were required to entice men.”

 

“No, no, I am not bothered,” Q said quickly. “I am happy that you have each other at the end of the day and that those missions weren’t 100% unpleasant.” Not that he thought MI6 would force one of their agents to do something like _that_ if it wasn’t their ‘cup of tea’.

 

Alec suddenly pushed forward and grabbed Q’s arm, resting his head against it while James tried his best to pull him back by his side without hurting him even more. “James, Q is being cute again. Help me hug him, please?”

 

Q had never been happier in his life to hear someone knock at his door and he practically ran out. He practically pushed the medic in the bathroom, letting the man see for himself the extent of the damage he had to deal with. But his luck stopped there because he ended up being the nurse and everything got even more awkward after that.

 

Alec kept asking him to dress up as a nurse, the doctor instantly starting to blush when that image sneaked in his mind which got James to start a rant about how it was unprofessional for him to do so when he had patients to deal with. It was really strange to hear James Bond scolding someone for not acting professional when the man acted as if he couldn’t grasp the meaning of that word.

 

Thirty minutes and two bags of blood later, Alec was tucked in Q’s bed, holding on to his hand so tightly that it had gone numb. Q was more worried about what was going on in the bathroom, clearly hearing the two arguing, James grunting in pain every time he said something that the doctor considered to be out of line.

 

“If that idiot kills my James, I will skin him alive.” Alec threatened, tugging on Q’s arm until he got him to kneel next to the bed. “I already want to kill him for looking at you the way he does with those beady little, unworthy eyes of his.”

 

“I have never let any of my patients die, even if they deserved it,” the doctor said as he came out of the bathroom, his glare softening and his mood visibly getting better when he turned his attention to Q. “Quartermaster, I take it that no one at MI6 is supposed to know that _they_ are back?”

 

Before Q could open his mouth, James was already leaning on the doctor’s back, leading him towards the door and congratulating him in the most sarcastic way possible for figuring out that he was supposed to keep his mouth shut about everything. He might have managed to sneak in there a few insults, but Alec had distracted Q by rubbing his face against his hand again, asking him for water.

 

Still, he couldn’t just leave the defenceless doctor alone in the room with the two wounded sharks, even if he had just saved their lives. “007 please refrain from acting like you are as old as your designated number.”

 

“Kind of hard since he is,” Adam hissed loud enough to be heard. Great, Q was surrounded by children. “That aside, Quartermaster, I was thinking—“

 

James snorted, crossing his hands over his chest. “Now that’s the funniest thing I heard all day. Do you want me to give you a pill for your new headache or something? At least let me open the window, it smells like something got burned to a crisp. A brain, perhaps?”

 

“Okay, that is enough,” Q snapped. “Bond, bed now and cease talking before I throw you out the same way you came in.” He only had to point and the man was jumping in the bed, pulling the covers over himself and turning with his back at Q to get a better positing from which he could glare at Adam.

 

And the faith of the world was entrusted to them. It was a real miracle that the apocalypse hadn’t happened yet. “Adam, I am very thankful for everything you did. I will include this in the report after the mission ends and recommend you for a nice bonus.” He started to push the man towards the door, closing it as soon as he completely stepped through it, not letting him get a single word out.

 

“I’m happy he’s gone. I don’t like him trying to move in on _our_ Quartermaster,” Alec sing-sang, resting his head in the palm of his hand as he pulled away the covers, patting the space left between him and James, “Now, I’m in bed, James’ in bed…But we are still missing something here. Any ideas what that might be, Q?”

 

“My money is on ‘common sense’.”He wasn’t sure if it was an invitation or not, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to join the man, especially since his partner was right next to him, looking at them both in a very strange way. “I have a lot of work to do, so do not pretend to feel bad that I have been kicked out of my own bed by your inability to keep yourselves safe.”

 

His computers came to life in an instant and he got lost in the new data the two men had brought him, completely deaf to whatever was being said. His eyes started to sting after a while so he decided to rest them only for a moment. It did no one any good if the code blended in itself and he couldn’t separate the real bits from the traps. After all, he didn’t want a particularly bad incident to repeat itself and flood the MI6 servers with a Trojan.

 

Though funny, he didn’t remember his desk or his chair being this soft or warm. It kind of felt like his bed, only he never really found it in his heart to buy that giant electrical pillow he had seen in that store all those months ago. Ah well, maybe it was an extra hot day in London again.

 

He moved his left leg from under the cover, grunting when he actually met resistance and brushed against something that felt like two legs – only that was out of the question because he never did one night stands; it was too risky for the Quartermaster to do that if it wasn’t his peers and he was only really interested in two people.

 

“No, it’s cold,” he mumbled and shivered, quickly pulling his leg back under the covers. The left side of the very warm and not soft in the normal sense of the word chuckled and Q felt the right side move closer to him, warm breath being blown through his shirt as his cold leg got caught between two warm ones.

 

Okay, those weren’t pillows. He could also hear two distinctive heartbeats and his mind simply refused to allow him to remember what he had done the previous night. It did however seem to be more than happy to recall all those horror game trailers and silly scary YouTube adverts that his minions thought they watched in secret at work. Oh, treacherous mind, how mysterious it is the way you work.

 

But if he didn’t open his eyes and managed to grab the gun from under his pillow just before he was attacked by whomever or whatever was in his bed, everything will be okay. His heart stopped when a hand moved to grab his just as his fingers brushed against the bottom of the gun.

 

“Q, I know we cause you a lot of troubles, but ruining your heavenly soft bed with our blood and wasting MI6 issued bullets on our head? Are we really worth that much?” James whispered directly in his ear, making him shiver and move further back against him.

 

“I’m the one holding his hand and you’re the one he’s rubbing against? Not fair, I want a do over. You hold his hand and I whisper in his ear,” Alec grumbled and moved his leg further up until it was right over Q’s hips. “Although I might _accidentally_ sneak my tongue in there a couple of times and I am hungry enough to start nibbling on your ear, moy sladkiy.”

 

Now things were slowly starting to come back to him. Alec was stabbed and almost died in his bathroom and James was shot, but was in a better shape than his lover. That is right, his lover. James and Alec were an honest to God couple and it didn’t actually surprise him, now that he thought about it. Which meant that he had no place sleeping in the same bed, nestled between them, even if he hadn’t felt this safe ever since he was a child.

 

He opened his eyes suddenly when he realized that, Alec looking extremely blurry even though he was so close that his forehead was being touched by Q’s wild hair. “Dobroye utro krasávec,” Alec said, brushing his hair aside.

 

Of course, Q’s brain froze because James was right behind him and definitely awake and they weren’t on a mission so he was probably very annoyed that his lover was touching someone else’s forehead in such a kind and caring manner. That or he had said something very stupid while he was sleeping and the two decided to mock him.

 

“I literally have no idea what you are saying, Alec,” Q managed to mumbled. “I do not know a speck of Russian and this isn’t fair because you do not see me forcing you to start your day off by trying to decipher binary.”

 

The allowed him to sit up right, James following his example while Alec struggled to find the right way to get up without tearing open his stitches. Q narrowed his eyes, trying his best to spot where his glasses might be when James gently cupped his chin and turned him to face him.

 

“He wished you a good morning and called you beautiful, which you are, and his sweet.” Q might have blushed, he wasn’t sure, but it would explain why James chuckled when he placed his glasses on his nose. “You aren’t, of course, his sweet. Or rather just _his_ sweet. He should have said ‘nash sladkiy’ because we agreed on sharing if you liked the idea.”

 

This was an interesting dream, one that better not be interrupted by his alarm going off or by the real life agents shaking him awake. Because really, this couldn’t possibly be reality, even though James’ hand felt so soft on his face despite the many marks he had in it. And Alec was so warm against his back, slowly moving up to nuzzle his neck.

 

“If I kiss you, Quartermaster, how will you react?” James muttered, their lips brushing against each other, sneaking his hands around both him and Alec. “Will you kiss back? Or will you run from this bed and serve us on a silver platter to our enemies.”

 

Q snorted, rubbing their noses together. “I should punish the dream you by kissing dream Alec first since he didn’t insult me by assuming that I’d betray you. Although, I guess I just insulted myself because this is all happening in my mind.”

 

He allowed his imagination to move him around so that he was leaning against both of his figments, their hands spilling under his shirt. “See, James? He _does_ prefer a man of action, so I do get to kiss him first.”

 

He turned his head in the direction of the dream Alec, closing his eyes and snickering, puckering his lips. And just as he felt a wet tongue against it, his brain finally started working 100% and he froze. He couldn’t dream Russian because he didn’t know Russian and what he had heard sounded very Russian and a Russian was about to kiss him and that phone of his better start ringing or they better be attacked because he didn’t know how to slither out of the bed without opening stitches or hitting bullet holes.

 

His heart started to beat fast and both men felt that so they stopped. Alec tapped his nose gently to get him to open his eyes, smiling softly at him. “So James was right. You would prefer if we talk about this first and then have fun and really get to know each other.”

 

“It wouldn’t be professional for me, for _us_ , to do this.” He tried to search for the right words to get his point across without insulting the two. He had nothing against people who enjoyed open relationships or shared their partners with strangers or co-workers or friends for a single night, but he didn’t think he could do that.

 

Against his better judgement, he already cared for them to the point where he was afraid he had fallen for them. If he slept with them now only to be tossed aside to whatever new, shiny person they found, he knew he would end up regretting it.

 

“This would certainly be a first in MI6 history, the Quartermaster in a relationship with two agents at the same time. But we’re willing to give it a try and do more than our best not to screw it up,” James said slowly, sneaking an arm around Q and resting his hand over his heart.

 

“One night stands resulting from adrenaline rushes or your subconscious need to ensure that the person you’re trusting trust you back is not a relationship.” He should pull away, but he wanted to enjoy the intimacy for a few more minutes. “Plus, you are both wounded and while you could manage to do something without killing yourself, Alec is in no condition.”

 

He found himself suddenly on his back, Alec straddling his hips and holding his hands above his head. “You’ll be surprised by what I can do even when I am like this when it comes to you, Q. And really, do you really think we’d be satisfied with just a single night and no strings attached? We’ll use those strings to wrap you tightly against us and never let you go.”

 

It was easy for Q to pull his hands free, raising his eyebrow as it became quite clear Alec was struggling to keep from groaning and rolling on his side from the pain. “If you start bleeding over me, you’ll end up sleeping in the tub. And I’ll have to call Adam back.” He snorted when he heard both of them growl, moving his arms around Alec to push him against him and start to rub his back.

 

James laid down next to them, throwing his legs over the both of them, somehow managing to pull the covers over them. If you ignored their wounds, this was the almost perfect way to start the day. As far as Q was concerned, the world outside his small apartment had ceased existing and they were the last people on earth.

 

A pity there seemed to be on earth quake on this lovely little planet of theirs, although he enjoyed the way James was whispering his name in his ear. He never actually said it that softly on missions; just screamed it whenever things escalated and he need to be sure that he was heard – it was a needy call of his name then, but not in the erotic way Q would have preferred it.

 

“Q? Q, love, your work phone is ringing and we may have _accidentally_ destroyed your alarm clock when it went off.” Okay, the first part of the second sentence was perfect, but he definitely had a problem with what followed.

 

Alec seemed to have the same problem because he old held on tighter to him and moved to hide his head in his chest. “James, do we really have to wake him up? What if his phone suffers the same fate as his alarm clock? Must we really share him? I say you toss the key out the window and nail everything shut.”

 

“MI6 frowns upon the kidnapping of its Quartermaster, especially by agents who are currently labelled as MIA” Q grumbled, rolling away from Alec directly into James’ waiting arms. “Phone please. I think I’m late for work.”

 

The second he accepted the call, R was screaming worriedly in his ear, shooting all sorts of questions about his health. He rolled out of bed, quickly making his way to the closet to dig out some fresh clothes while he waited for the poor woman to calm down. He connected the Bluetooth and tossed the phone in the bed, almost hitting James in the face with it, starting to undress in front of the two men without realizing it.

 

“Sorry R, I am a bit unwell today. And my alarm clock had a little mishap.” He chuckled at something she had asked, jumping back when he turned around and noticed the two men looking at him intently, licking their lips.

 

He blushed for a single second, running to the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Things still weren’t clear between them and he refused to give them a striptease number. Yet. Maybe in the future. If they brought his tech back in one piece. Oh, actually that would be a good idea. For every gadget that wasn’t broken, he would remove one piece of clothing.

 

“ _Quartermaster, are you still there_?”

 

“Oh, yes, yes. Sorry. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thought, I might have to cut this day short.” He hopped around in the bathroom, trying to get his pants on. He realized just how bad of idea that had been the instant he started to fall and he just sighed, waiting for the pain to come. At least he was close to the door so he would smash against it and not break his nose on the bathroom floor.

 

Lucky, he hadn’t locked the door and as if sensing that Q wasn’t being his usual smart self that morning, James walked in just moments before Q changed the colour of the door, catching him. “There we go, Quartermaster. Nice and easy. How about we take a seat on the toilet and you pull those pants up?”

 

He really hoped that R hadn’t heard James, despite the man talking right next to the ear with the headset. “ _Quartermaster, is there anyone else there with you? Such as a certain agent that’s currently missing alongside his partner?”_ Clearly not his day today.

 

“If you heard interference, start the system check-up. Everything should be done by the time I get there.” He ended the conversation just as James stole his glasses and pulled a shirt over his head. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Showing you I am what people might call ‘boyfriend material’.” He sounded dead serious which only made Q want to laugh. “This shirt goes better with those pants. Although, if that smart-ass from yesterday will be there, might I suggest wearing me?”

 

“Hey! Hey, don’t do anything without me! I swear I’ll crawl over there and pound you into the bathroom floor, Bond!” Alec yelled, already sounding as if he was trying to get out of bed.

 

Q grabbed his glasses from James and slowly poked his head out of the bathroom, eyes narrowed. “I’ll have Adam sleep in this bloody apartment with us if you do anything stupid, do you hear me?” He huffed when Alec gave a short nod and pulled the blankets back on himself.

 

“Getting rid of his body might be a tad tricky in our state,” Alec grumbled and Q smiled at him, patting his head – which seemed to do wonders to the man’s mood; then again, not that he thought about it, it never took him more than even a simple accidental brush against him to make him feel better.

 

“Now, the computers are not connected to any kind of network, so while I am away you only have a few books, a small TV in the kitchen that can be put on the nightstand and each other for entertainment. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

He got a kiss on the cheek from James who then pushed him towards Alec, the man wrapping his arms around him and pulling him down, kissing his neck. Really, the man was a walking disaster and Q couldn’t help but wonder how he had managed to stay alive for so long or in one piece seeing that he constantly did things that should worsen his state.

 

“Lyubov', don’t you always say the two of us are all the other double ohs combined and then-some? Can’t we just keep you all to ourselves? Make our own MI6?” His fingers found their way under Q’s shirt and the man was saved from agreeing to the completely insane plan by James who simply plucked him off of Alec and tucked his shirt in his pants, patting his head.

 

“Have a nice day at work, Quartermaster. We’ll hold down the fort for you.”

 

R was on him the instant he walked in MI6, asking him in hushed tones what was going on and if he had slept with Bond and if he knew where Alec was. Because, she said, she personally checked the system and their phones were not tapped and she had Bond on the coms for long enough to recognize his voice, even if he was whispering.

 

“We’ll talk another time about this, R. For now, please pull up the most important missions I have to take care of for today and check to see which doctors are in Medical right now.”

 

That was not what she wanted to hear, but she dropped the subject anyway, inviting herself over to his apartment at the end of the week, 'unofficial mission done or not done’, she didn’t care. Not that she loved gossip or anything like that; she was simply worried that he was making horrible decisions when it came to his love life and she wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t end up locking himself in a closet somewhere and bawl his eyes out, like so many of the two conquests had done in the past.

 

He narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat when the woman started to list the names of all the people just in MI6 that the two had slept with.” I am grateful for your concern, R, useless and unnecessary as it may be. Now if you could tell me who’s in Medical right now so I can carry on with my day?”

 

He stopped by M’s office first, to let the man know exactly what was up – he had always turned a blind eye and let him do what he thought was best – and ask if he could go on a fake medical leave for about a week as well as allowing him to take home a laptop so he could intervene in situations where a Quartermaster was needed.

 

“Of course, anything you need Q. And since we are talking about 006 and 007, should I enforce a gag order to whomever from Medical dropped by your apartment last night to tend to their wounds?”

 

Some people feared the new M and others saw him as even more of a pencil pusher than the old one while Q’s two agents refused to acknowledge the man as M. For them, he was simply someone that had more power over them, but not their actual boss. It was sad and sweet at the same time, a few people whispering that the two regularly visited ‘the old bitch’s’ tomb to report to her.

 

“I believe I have that part under control, although there was a bit of friction between Doctor Adam and 007 while he was tending to the agent’s wounds.” He covered his embarrassment with a cough when M gave him a knowing smile.

 

“As much as I hate to ask this type of question when it comes to our own medical staff, did you notice the agent’s state somehow worsening?” Q shook his head and M smiled. “Good then. I will have Miss Moneypenny drive you to your apartment since I cannot allow our Quartermaster to wonder around the city in such a fragile state.”

 

Eve had a little smile on her face as she drove Q home, as if he knew everything. And frankly, Q wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. She might have not been a field agent anymore, but she was still a spy even if she had stuck herself behind her desk.

 

She didn’t comment when Q asked her to stop by a Chinese restaurant and he got too much for food a single person or when he also stopped at a restaurant that seemed rustic and came out with a bag full of food he couldn’t properly pronounce. She simply chuckled and ruffled his hair, causing him to hold on tighter to the bags he had and avoid looking at her until they reached their destination.

 

“Take good care, Quartermaster. And might I suggest a little vacation for everyone after this whole thing is done?” She winked and drove off, showing that she had just as much disregard for the traffic laws as any other double oh agent.

 

When he entered his apartment, he was greeted by the sight of his two possible lovers trying to outdo each other in a shooter game. That he didn’t own. On a console that he had thought about buying for himself numerous times but always ended up gifting it to one of his siblings or their children. And everything was connected on a large TV screen that he also didn’t own. There was practically no room left in his little apartment.

 

“Welcome back, Q!” Alec was all smiled and James slithered towards Q, pulling him into the apartment before helping him. “Your TV had a tiny accident so James and I bought you this and a gaming system to go with it.” He noticed the cold stare Q was giving him, but assumed it was for the wrong thing. “Hey, James did all the carrying. I sat in bed and watched, I promise. Want to play?”

 

Q ignored him and went directly into the kitchen, brushing his hand against the broken TV set as he set the bags of food down. It meant the world for him, this pathetic little thing that now wouldn’t fetch him more than thirty quid and that was if the buyer was generous. It had been a housewarming gift from his parents when he had moved into the apartment, the two of them insisting that he take it and not worry about how they paid for it.

 

“Q, is everything in order?” James asked from the door, lowering his eyes for a moment when he saw how sad Q looked. “It was an honest accident; I put the TV between us and the medicine made Alec sleepy—“

 

“No need to explain, 007,” Q interrupted, pulling out a couple of plates and bowls to serve the food. “I will buy a new one once we’re done with this.”

 

“You can keep what we bought. No, you have to keep what we bought.” James tried to wrap his arms around him, but despite how small the kitchen was, Q managed to step around him and walk back in the main room.

 

“Thank you, but I do not have the time or the room for any of these things.” He almost bumped into Alec, the man looking worriedly at him. “Is there something else I can do for you, 006? Maybe set fire to my own bed so you can get a softer one? Cut my sheets so you can get Egyptian ones? I am sure I can make everything look like an accident if I try a little.”

 

“Q, I didn’t—“

 

“Of course you didn’t. Neither one of you ever means it when you destroy my gadgets, my alarm clock or my television.” He covered Alec’s mouth when it looked like the man was going to talk again, sighing. “I’ll get over it, don’t worry. I always do. I have work to do, but don’t worry about the noise. I do own a pair of headphones that cancel it. Eat before the food gets cold.”

 

They were over his ears even before he sat down in front of the computer, just so he wouldn’t hear any of their excuses. Thankfully, they didn’t try to steal them and pretty much left him to his own devices, Q realizing pretty late into the night that he was on his third cup of warm tea and munching on some of the Chinese food that had magically appeared next to him alongside wet napkins.

 

Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh with the two. They rarely did anything bad on purpose and he had wanted to destroy his alarm clock since the moment he got it. Really, the two actually did him a favour with the thing and he guessed that someone in his position shouldn’t actually be attached to anything material.

 

He turned around, pulling his headset off and saw that the two had fallen asleep, their characters long dead while the NPCs still ran around the bodies, shouting and shooting. A miracle how the two could sleep with all that noise, but the sad thing was they were used with that sounds of the battlefield and could probably make the difference between the real deal and the pretend.

 

Alec was still holding the controller so Q carefully too it from his hand, checking to see where James’ was before tucking them in, unable to help himself from caressing their faces. It was cute that the two had linked their fingers together and acted as another reminder that they were human at the end of the day and that he needed to do everything in his power to protect them and the other double oh agents.

 

On another note, the medicine had to be really strong if they hadn’t woken up by now. He remembered when Bond was startled awake just because Q had sighed when the coms where still on. Another miracle happened when he entered the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up, only to find the dishes washed – who knew 007 actually did that– and the garbage disposed of, everything looking spotless.

 

After he was done with his own dishes, he eyed the still on console, debating if he should give into that temptation for just five minutes. Like he said, he had always wanted one and when he had been a child, he simply loved watching his classmates play on the hand-held ones. He was invited to some of their houses where he also go to watch them play on the TV ones, but he never really had it in him to ask if he could at least be player two - they also never offered, so maybe it had been for the better that he kept his mouth shut.

 

He connected his headset to their TV and picked up a controller, carefully sitting at the foot of the bed. Five minutes, he promised himself. Five minutes as soon as the opening cut-scene ended. Okay, maybe five minutes after the tutorial stage ended.

 

The graphics were really good and the story seemed to be decent for a cliché - it was his job that made it a cliché; he was sure the game developers gave it their all. He liked the option to customize the weapons and maybe he spent more than five minutes doing that, amused that his character didn’t seem to actually register recoil no matter the weapon he used. He did have to click a button to keep him from breathing when he sniped so the weapon was steady which was cool.

 

Kind of odd to have a sniping mission so early in the game, but it was fun. Just another five more minutes and then he will turn everything off and go to sleep. The music was also good, it certainly got your heart pumping fast when he was in the middle of a war zone. No wonder his nieces and nephews loved to spend hours playing these types of games.

 

The new cut-scene was taking a tad too long so Q leaned on his side and closed his eyes, focusing on listening to whatever convoluted explanation the game version of himself - a woman, who also seemed to provide fan-service as well as tech- had to offer his character, hoping that he wasn’t going to be forced in a ‘quick time event’ or whatever it was called.

 

He realized he fell asleep only when he felt like he was suddenly floating, his ears ringing a bit as James gently hushed him. “Just let me play five more minutes and I’ll sleep just one hour before working,” he mumbled, moving to bury his face in the warm thing next to him that was probably James’ chest.

 

The warmth disappeared only for a moment before Q was assaulted by it from both sides, heavy limbs trapping him in safety. He smiled and brushed against the two men, easily accepting sleep again. He’d forgotten to set his alarm, but he was sure that his internal clock will tell them when that hour was up and he’d get back to work.

 

“No, love. You’ll sleep for much longer than an hour and play until you get bored,” James was whispering in his ear and Q couldn’t be quite sure, but he might have also brushed his lips against his.

 

He felt Alec resting his cheek against his and there was no doubt that he nibbled on his ear before speaking, causing him to shiver. “And when you get bored, you can come to our play forever and play all the games we have. What do you say about that, kitten? Just the three of us, alone, naked, playing all sort of games?”

 

Q nodded slowly, smiling. There was a part of his mind that told him he needed to scold Alec for what he had just said, but he was too sleepy, the bed too warm and the agents too full of love for him to care about anything like that.

 

He woke up to the divine smell of tea and to Alec playing with his hair, James leaning over them both of them so he could spread the ointment on Alec’s wound. He could so easily get used to waking up like this, or wrapped just around one of them if the other was in a mission.

 

Alec moved to nuzzle his neck, grumbling. “Hey, he snuggled between us instead of shooting us so I am counting that as him being over us totalling his TV. And, admit it; you know you want to take his last night’s yes for market value and drag him out of here and convince him to rent this place out while we treat him as he should be treated.”

 

He sneaked an arm around Alec’s neck and the other up James’ shirt, lightly scratching his back. “Must we really start every day with me explaining that Quartermaster kidnapping is not allowed?”

 

“By anyone but us, of course,” Alec agreed, kissing the tip of Q’s nose. “Of course, we could find more interesting ways of starting the day, if you want. We could start that right now since I managed to get out of bed on my own and without any pain today.” He moved to cup Q’s face, all traces of amusement leaving his features. “I really did not mean to destroy your TV. I simply fell asleep and accidentally kicked it out of bed.”

 

“A kiss would have worked better than a brand new TV, to be —“

 

Alec didn’t need to be told twice because he instantly captured Q’s lips with his, rolling on top of him. The kiss was aggressive and needy, almost sloppy in its execution since they bumped teeth. But it didn’t matter because it still made Q’s head spin and he moaned in the man’s mouth, needing more.

 

They broke away and when Alec tried to kiss Q again, he turned his head away, covering his mouth with his hand. “You know this will end with you in pain, me covered in your blood and James trying to hold himself back from killing Adam.”

 

On cue, James growled. But Q already knew how to calm the man down and make it pleasant for the both of them. “You broke my alarm clock, didn’t you?” James glanced away from him and gave nodded, hands crossed over his chest.

 

“I don’t understand why you had set it for 6 in the morning. I may have overacted it when I lashed out at the shrilling thing, but I do not regret doing so.”

 

“Well, you did me a favour.” He wrapped his arms around James’ neck and pulled him close enough for their lips to brush. “I would like to thank you with a kiss, if that is acceptable?”

 

James’ kiss was slow and careful, the man taking his time exploring every inch of Q’s mouth with his tongue. In some aspects, he was the exact opposite of Alec. It made Q curious about how they acted towards each other in the throes of passion, who took control from who and how it would be if he was added to the equation. But not now; Alec was hurt and was James and he had something important to do.

 

So he broke the kiss, just as James was starting to push him against Alec, panting heavily. “We are still on a mission. But after...” he trailed off, sitting down in front of his computers, James putting his glasses on. “With minimal distractions, it should take me two days at most to have everything ready for MI6.”

 

His work wasn’t without distractions, because 009 managed to get himself in a pickle that took Q half of day to fix, then it was 005 needing his help and then 008. Then there were also his new lovers who were against him overworking himself so they kept forcing him out of the digital world with food, kisses that ranged from sweet and innocent to needy and sinful and also with games. Lots and lots of games that James snuck out to buy when Q was safely tucked in Alec’s chest, getting some much needed sleep.

 

The two loved shooters, which surprised Q a bit. He thought that the field was more than enough, but Alec explained that they preferred the made up world where wounds were practically instantly healed and bad choices could be completely erased by simply reloading a recent save file.

 

Q didn’t think he had a favourite game yet – the yet being the key word in all of this because by then, James had managed to get him to agree to keep everything if he refused to move in with them. However, he was really good at the fighting ones mostly because he had an impeccable memory when it came to button sequences and button placement. He wasn’t a fan of the gore the combos brought with them, but appreciated all the work that went into the very imaginative ways of finishing off your opponents.

 

“How is this the second time you play this? James, James, Q is cheating. I do not know how, but he is,” Alec was whining, arms wrapped around his middle, head hidden in his back as he tried to bite him. “He’s taking advantage of a wounded man and he is making him eat the pavement it a totally nonsexual and non-fun way!”

 

James just chuckled and gave Q a long and deep kiss, pulling him away from Alec. “If you want to deal with a mature adult and punish him from biting you, we could squeeze in the bathroom.” His ran his hand down Q’s back, squeezing his ass. “We have to be really close for what I have in mind anyway.”

 

“So, there is an actual adult in that bathroom?” Q moved to take a peek behind James’ shoulder, managing to get only the letter ‘A’ out before he was pushed in the bed and attacked by both of them, the night ending with him fast asleep, spent and full of love bites around his neck and arms.

 

All and all, he was done with decoding the data in four days. He actually startled the two sleeping men when he slammed his desk in victory. “I admire all the work that went into this, but nothing and I do mean _nothing_ can stop me from finding out what I want.”

 

They weren’t files about ongoing missions or anything like that. They were much more important because they contained detailed information about the top dogs of that organization and a few very important active agents they had. A quick check on those names from his work laptop showed that only two had gone into hiding while the others still carried out with their intricate facades.

 

And just as he finished uploading the data on a third USB stick, his two lovers patting his back, ruffling his hair and covering his face in kisses, whispering promises of a very interesting vacation following the dismantling of the organization, something exploded right in front of his window.

 

The two agents pushed him down when they heard the tell-tale beep, shielding him with their bodies as pieces of the wall and glass flew through the room. Alec grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him into the bathroom, pushing him into the small tub as James shoot the first two men that came in, grabbing the USB stick out of the computer before throwing one of the monitors at another attacker.

 

“The doors are bullet proof!” Q shouted over the noise, loud enough for James to hear and run in the bathroom with them, slamming it shut. “And I do have a few extra weapons hidden in here and in the kitchen.”

 

Q started to pull the tiles off the bathroom walls, throwing Alec and James a few extra guns that instantly came to life when their thumbs touched the grip - he added them when he was taking a shower and they really didn’t have the time to stare at him the way they did - as well a few small, rectangular things which were meant to explode if they hit something after being tapped twice.

 

The door was finally kicked in and he two agents greeted their attackers with a shower of bullets, Q hidden behind them. Alec was the first who tested the explosives, quite satisfied with the horrified screaming of the man who had caught on fire after having his arm blown off, throwing himself out the window.

 

The police was already downstairs, setting up a road block and demanding that the attackers threw down their weapons and other such nonsense. Sometimes the police procedures were so stupid that Q was amazed - and happy -that more cops didn’t die. Their response was gunfire from the attackers that had remained downstairs to ensure that the three didn’t somehow manage to get out, moment in which James grabbed what was left of the door to use it as a shield, Alec Q’s hand and pushed their way out of the house.

 

They ended up on the roof from which Alec jumped with Q thrown over his shoulder to the neighbouring building, James tossing an explosive down the stairs before locking the door and following their example. They took the fire escape down and sneaked behind the firemen, ambulances and cops, Alec hot-wiring a car.

 

M was already waiting outside of the MI6 building with a medical team and R, Q quickly giving her the USB stick while the doctors started to treat the cuts on his bare feet and check the agents to be sure that they weren’t wounded. Of course the two didn’t let them carry Q away until they tucked him in a blanket, since he only had on a pair of briefs and James might have stepped on Adam’s foot and threatened to make him disappear if his eyes lingered where they weren’t supposed to.

 

Other agents were dispatched to try and bring in at least on of attacker in one piece back and M got Eve to deal with whatever media article might pop out and, after everyone made sure that the Quartermaster had nothing more than a few cuts on his feet they left him alone.

 

Alec was the first to manage to sneak in Q’s private Medical room - James had been spotted and cornered by Tanner who wanted to discuss why threatening a doctor wasn’t a good idea- and found the young man looking lost as he saw up right in his bed, blanket thrown over his shoulders.

 

He sat down next to Q and started to rub his back, smiling when the man rested his head against his chest. “If it helps, none of your neighbours were wounded seriously and the building’s structure wasn’t damaged.”

 

“But my apartment is in complete shambles, right?” He let out a defeated sigh when he felt Alec nod. Great, now he had to find a new place to stay and buy new clothes. His only solace was that he had managed to also grab his phone and deleted the hard-drives clean. At least MI6’s secrets were safe. “I’m dizzy…”

 

Alec helped him lie down before dragging an exasperated doctor inside the room, snarling at him. “My Quartermaster is dizzy. You guys said he was okay. Would you like to guess who I don’t believe right now? And hint: it’s not the person with the ‘q’ in his name or title.”

 

The doctor let out a long, suffering sigh and took Q’s pulse and blood pressure again, knowing that he wouldn’t be left alone until he did. “A bit elevated, but otherwise normal for someone who is still in shock. Just lie down, Quartermaster and when you start feeling cold, pull the other blankets on you.”

 

Q thanked the man and did as he was told, James strolling in with a sour face, zeroing in on the doctor. The man shoved Q’s medical chart in his chest before he could be asked about anything and tied to walk out. James glanced at the chart for a moment, looked up at Alec who stopped from wrapping Q up in blankets to give him the okay sign and grabbed the doctor’s arm.

 

“I actually wanted to know if the Quartermaster is fit to go home or not.” He relaxed when the doctor nodded and picked up the bundled Q in his arms. “We were your guests in your home, so now it is only fitting that you are one in ours.”

 

All of Q’s weak protests were ignored, the two eventually getting him to agree to the whole thing by kissing him – if it worked with getting him to forgive them for destroying his TV they thought that might also get him to see things their way.

 

“Just don’t think kissing can fix everything or that it can make me agree to everything that goes through those thick skulls of yours,” Q grumbled from Alec’s chest, James pulling his legs in his lap as the MI6 driver tried his best not to stare too much in the mirror at what was going on.

 

Alec chuckled, tilting his head back. “At least it allowed us to kidnap the Quartermaster. I wonder if it will also get you to let us win at least one round in that fighting game, which I am proud to say that we have home from 1 to 10.”

 

“Or,” James intervened, kicking the driver’s seat to get the man to pay attention to the road and not them, “we could use our mouths for something that’s been proven to distract you even from the best string of codes.”

 

The driver gulped when he heard something get unzipped, thanking God when the separating screen started to slowly go up. He really didn’t want to have to have carved on his grave stone that he had an accident and then got shot out of his skull because he ogled at the Quartermaster being pleasured by his two deadly lovers.

 


	10. Blow up the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. A traitor brings a bomb into Q Branch. Q is there, Alec is with him and James is on a mission.
> 
> Anonymous asked for "A traitor brings a bomb into Q Branch. Q is there."
> 
>  
> 
> I am now working on sweet dolphindreamer's request :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any and all mistakes and enjoy~

The day had started normally enough. Alec drove him to work, pestered him to eat the breakfast that he had skipped until Q gave in and allowed the man to feed him - he was tricked no less than five times into a kiss, not that he was bothered by that and even gave Alec when the food was gone- because he was too busy coding the last part of a program that was meant to be up by the end of that day and then he was informed that James’ mission went tits up and that his expertise was needed.

 

He felt that something was wrong the second he sat down on the chair that had been oh so generously offered to him by one the newer employees that could not stomach him in the least for being his superior despite his young age and hated his crazy ideas that always worked. Yet he opted to ignore that feeling, labelling it as mere paranoia at the man’s sudden change of heart and nervousness because when one of James’ missions went tits up, the world’s fate depended on the outcome.

 

“What did you do this time?” He asked as soon as the link was established, groaning when he heard the man cough awkwardly.

 

“ _It wasn’t entirely my fault this time_ ,” James said easily as he usually did which made Q want to reach through the coms and strangle him.

 

“It never is,” Q sighed, pushing his glasses up so he could rub his eyes. “At least tell me you aren’t bleeding this time? I just got the blood out of your favourite Egyptian silk sheets.” And by that he meant that he burned them and bought new ones.

 

“ _I went out of my way to make sure that wouldn’t happen_ ,” James chuckled and Q sighed in relief. “ _But because of that, I regret to inform you that I had to chuck my gun at one of my shooters, used the watch before I was supposed to just because I got a feeling the woman was aiming for my heart in a different way and the car is now resting at the bottom of the Seine because I had to lead my pursuers to a dead end before I ejected out of danger_.”

 

Fucking bastard. “I think I heard the accountants all suffering from a massive stroke, but at least you are in one piece. For now,” he added, the hint of the scolding he was going to get when he returned more than obvious. “Now tell me what you need and Alec, please be a darling and make me the James-did-something-wrong tea.”

 

“ _Now that’s just hurtful_ ,” James muttered, feigning hurt. “ _Why don’t you have a special tea like that for when Alec screws up his missions?”_

 

“Because I rarely do,” Alec chimed in, stealing a little kiss from Q. “I’ll bring you that tea only if you eat the sandwich and the muffin that comes with it.”

 

Their relationship was seen as odd by some people, but perfect by them. Q took care of them, ensured that they came back in one piece – of Swiss cheese on same days –and gave them a reason to do their best to come back while they made sure Q didn’t lose himself to his job, mind or duty. But it was so much more than that and there were not enough words in the world to describe how much they loved each other.

 

If James or Alec died, they promised that the survivor would do anything in his power to keep Q from drowning in misery and they made Q promise to move on if they both died – Q did, but he had lied and all three were aware of that.

 

In return, Q forced both of them to _sign a contract_ in which both agents entered a formal and legally binding agreement to _not_ go rogue and die avenging him. They both singed, of course, sure that nothing was going to happen to their beloved Q because if anyone wanted to get to him, they had to go through them as well as an army of dangerous boffins, normal agents and other double oh agents because – ignoring a few exceptions who were bound to see the light soon – everyone adored and worshiped Q as if he was a God and no one in their right mind would wish ill upon Q or find it in their heart to actually hurt the man.

 

Or so they thought.

 

Q had a habit of lowering his chair when he was eating at work, just to be sure that he didn’t spill anything on any keyboard or himself but otherwise hated to be sat in a lowered chair. The only time he found something he didn’t agree with when he lowered his chair had been when they moved underground after Silva blew up their old headquarters and that time it had been a rather large and furry spider. But this time, when he touched the plastic lever under his seat, his fingers brushed against something else that he instantly recognized.

 

He swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of his throat and reminded himself to keep calm and stay as still as it was humanly possible. “I will be with you shortly, 007. I need to go to the bathroom,” he excused himself, using his free hand to mute the coms. Alec instantly knew something was wrong. “Get everyone out of here and call a bomb expert,” Q whispered calmly.

 

Alec’s eyes almost popped out of his head and his first instinct was to grab Q and run, hoping for the best.

 

“Alec, just do what I tell you,” Q hissed, eyes narrowed. “I will keep helping James with his mission until R is ready to take over from a secure location. Do not, and I can’t stress this enough, tell him what’s happening, okay?”

 

“But Q–”

 

“Let me rephrase that, _agent_ ,” he almost moved his hand away from the device to push his glasses back on his nose by habit, but managed to stop himself in time, “I _order_ you not to tell 007 anything about this until he is in a secure location.”

 

Alec looked more than displeased, but nodded and stole a small kiss before going to do what he was told. He whispered the situation in R’s ear and, in less than five minutes, the whole branch was evacuated.

 

It was the first time that Q was mortified by the silence, but he couldn’t allow himself to fall victim to his despair so, taking a deep breath, he unmuted the coms and tried to sound like nothing was wrong. “Right, sorry for taking so long, 007. Where were we?”

 

 _“What’s wrong?”_ The agent asked instantly, his voice serious.

 

“Apparently, your target upgraded their security systems–”

 

“ _On your side,”_ James cut him off. _“What’s wrong on your end? You ceased calling me by my number the day we started dating. You call me ‘Bond’ to my face only when I do something wrong and 'jackass’ when you are talking to someone about me when you are upset. I am your darling, love, and beloved in private and God when you’re getting your brains screwed out.”_ James continued to say, sounding more and more annoyed with each word. _“So I will ask you again: What’s wrong?”_

 

R sent him a message, letting him know that she was ready to take over from him and he looked at the screen sadly. “We’ll talk when you get home, okay darling? I do love you no matter how many things you destroy and what I may say when we’re on a plane because of you.”

 

“ _I want to know what’s going on this instant, Q. Let me talk with Al-_ ” He ended the conversation, heart hurting because of how desperate James had sounded.

 

He felt a bit of hope when he saw someone suited up walking in, only for his heart to drop in his stomach when he saw that it was Alec. “We can’t do this to James,” he pleaded with the man, running his hand down the man covered face. “We can’t leave him alone.”

 

Alec sighed and took his helmet off, kissing Q slowly. “I don’t trust anybody but you and James when it comes to my life, solnyshko moyo.” He rubbed their noses together and Q actually managed to relax a little, resting their foreheads together. “Please trust me with yours? You know how good I am at dealing with explosives.”

 

Of course Q trusted Alec with his life and the man was indeed the best MI6 when it came to explosives. It was just that he didn’t want for both of them to die if today just happened to be that one day something went wrong. What if he sneezed? The bomb was clearly weight sensitive and it would go off and the suit meant nothing if the building collapsed. Or what if a piece of the ceiling suddenly came off and dropped in his lap? What if—

 

“Hey, stop worrying,” Alec said suddenly, poking Q’s nose. “Everything will be okay and we’ll laugh at James shitting his expensive pants when he hears about this, I promise.”

 

Alec and James strived at keeping their promises. They didn’t always manage to do that - there were some missions that couldn’t be completed unless one of Q’s gadgets got destroyed and sometimes, there was just too many shooters to avoid their bullets - but Q loved them infinitely more for trying.

 

In this case, Alec couldn’t keep his promise. The bomb was just too advanced and it came equipped with a timer that was activated not five minutes after his branch had been evacuated and Alec started trying to disarm it.

 

“Fuck it,” Alec growled, grabbing a bunch of laptops that he threw on the chair the second he pulled Q off of it and started to run for the door.

 

The bomb went off, bringing a part of the building down on them and burning the arm Q had warped around Alec’s neck and part of the leg that wasn’t covered by the agent’s body. And he was agonizing, scared the second he realized that he couldn’t feel his limbs and that all the saliva in his mouth was actually blood, unable to see Alec anywhere - or hear anything, for that matter.

 

He opened his mouth to call for Alec and felt his insides catch on fire. He tried getting up, but his muscles were refusing to listen to him and he almost passed out from the incredibly powerful wave of pain that washed over him.

 

Something suddenly leaned over him and for a second, his heart stopped. "Don’t take Alec; let James still have someone other than my cats,” he wanted to beg the spectre, only to realize when its face moved closer that it was just Alec who was trying to get him out.

 

Alec was moving his lips as he desperately kicked at the rubble that had pinned his young lover down and Q realized that he was – hopefully – temporarily deaf. He tried to tell Alec, but the man gently covered his lips with his finger and Q _assumed_ he was asking him not to say anything and that he was going to be okay.

 

But would he really? He couldn’t do anything much than turn his head and blink. If he was feeling his arms or legs, he couldn’t tell because of the pain. Alec wouldn’t let him even move his lips, turning his attention to him and hushing him, shaking his head to keep him from talking. He wasn’t sure if his ears were bleeding or not, but something was definitely wrong since he couldn’t hear any sound.

 

He was going to be happy if he got out of there alive, but he feared how he was going to be if that happened. He couldn’t care less about his legs, but everything else was important. He needed to type, he needed to hear, and he needed to hiss out orders at stubborn agents. What was he going to do if became nothing more than a voice stuck inside his own mind?

 

Alec shot him an apologetic look and Q didn’t even get to wonder why because, not a moment later, he was sure he had died and gone to hell where Satan himself took on the appearance of Alec just to torment him. Why? Because whenever Alec touched him, he shivered in pleasure and wanted more, but right now it felt like someone was slowly pealing all of his skin off while also shoving heated rods in his flesh.

 

His hearing suddenly returned to him, but all he could hear was a horrible screeching sound that was completely drowning whatever Alec was saying. Only when he started coughing did he realize that he was hearing himself screaming. And then someone finally took pity on him and his body and mind shut down, his last thought being that he was happy because James still had Alec.

 

***

 

For the first time since he had been forced by his father to watch his mother die when he was no older than ten, Alec cried. He cried when Q stopped screaming and he barely felt a pulse because he should have checked everything around his young lover and he cried again at how useless he felt when he was left alone in the hospital’s bathroom while the doctors where fighting to save Q’s life – as well as theirs because if Q flatlined, no one was going to be safe from his rage and agony.

 

Q’s operation lasted for nine hours, sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds and of those he sat in a plastic chair next to the operating ward for just five hours and exactly eleven minutes, spending the first part with his own doctor to patch his face.

 

Now how was that fair? He, who was a field agent and was ready to die, get wounded to the point of needing a chair or be disfigured beyond recognition got out with nothing but a deep cut from a scissor that flew off of a desk during the explosion while Q, the man who was supposed to be as protected and as safe as M was more dead than alive when the ambulance picked him up.

 

Someone cleared his throat and Alec looked up to see an exhausted doctor carefully removing his blood stained scrub – Q’s blood, his mind treacherously supplied. “He’s stable and in a medical induced coma,” the doctor started to explain as Q was being transferred to a room to recuperate.

 

Of course Alec tried to follow the light of his lights, only for the doctor to successfully block him and not get intimidated by his low growling – it usually had the fresh Medical staff need a change of pants.

 

“Mister Trevelyan, you cannot even be in the same room with him due to the high risk of infection.” The calmness and repetitive hint behind the man’s tone clued Alec off that he might not have been the first person to attempt to do so.

 

But he couldn’t care less because, unlike all those other losers, he had the perfect plan to avoid further hurting his lover. “I’ll wear a hazmat suit,” Alec growled. He wasn’t going to let Q out of his sight for a single second from now on and if a certain hooded figure decided to stroll by and reap him, then Alec was prepared to somehow bash its skull against the wall until it broke and then destroy its scythe just to be sure Q would never die.

 

“Mister Trevelyan, we don’t actually have hazmat suits in the hospital and while the members of our staff do wear special clothing when dealing with patients that are in a similar condition, we do not give them out or sell them.” He tried to push Alec back down on the chair, but of course he couldn’t get the agent to move.

 

“I want to see Q and sit by his side,” Alec seethed, fisting his hands.

 

“I really didn’t want to bring this up, but you do not feature as either a family member or his partner and that means—” He mouth dried and his mind stopped working when he saw with how much hate Alec was looking at him, gulping.

 

“I am one of his partners,” he seethed. “Even if we do not have papers, we _are_ married.” He brushed something off the doctor’s scrubs, giving him an unsettling grin. “So, get someone on the phone and tell them you have someone who wants to buy a hazmat suit.”

 

“Alec, that is enough,” Eve cut in, pulling him away from the terrified man. “You will be allowed to visit Q when the risk of infection is no longer present. Do you want to risk making Q worse?” Alec slowly shook his head and she pulled him in a tight hug.

 

Of course not, but he wanted to be sure that the room was secure and that Q was really connected to medicine IVs and life supporting machines and not to poison or bombs. If anything else was going to happen to him while on his watch, Alec was sure he was going to lose his mind.

 

They had _promised_ , no they had _sworn_ on what was left of their souls and hearts that, as long as they were together, nothing bad would happen. That they would protect each other of their enemies and what did he do? He let Q sit down on a bomb and then pretty much tossed him in a coma while James was away. He was never going to forgive himself and he was sure that neither James nor Q would ever look at him the same way again.

 

“I failed, Eve,” he whispered, feeling empty as those words came out his mouth. “Q almost died because I failed doing something I have been doing for almost my entire life.” How was that even possible? How could someone who was paranoid about the person stocking Q’s favourite fresh fruit store not have an alarm go off when the man who had been hissing at Q since the day he met him— “Did you catch the sukin syn?”

 

Eve moved back from him and cringed, her perfectly manicured nails digging in his arm to the point of drawing blood to keep him from storming off. “First of all, you didn’t fail. You did everything that you could and Q would have died if you kept on trying to disarm the bomb.” She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it looked sad. “As for the traitor…We’re going to find him, Alec, and he will pay for what he did.”

 

“Damn right you will and damn right that bastard will because _I_ am going to track him down and strangle him with his own intestines.” He tried to shrug Eve off, but the woman wouldn’t let go.

 

“Alec, you’ve been grounded and your licence has been temporarily suspended,” the woman said carefully, Alec looking like he was about to explode. “Mind your temper,” she added quickly, squeezing his arm. “If you get banned from this hospital unless it’s an emergency, no one will lift a finger to help you and you won’t be allowed to see Q.”

 

He let out a pathetic noise he never thought could come from him and collapsed on a nearby chair, hiding his face in the palms of his hands. He felt like crying again at how useless he had become even though he barely had a single scratch on him – if only an actual, supernatural demon showed so he could trade his soul in exchange for shifting all of Q’s wounds on to himself.

 

“What am I supposed to do then? Don’t stay with him, don’t go after the sobakayob. I am a killer, Eve. Q distracts me, he makes me human. But he’s hurt right now, badly so and I am not allowed to agonize next to him as such, my humanity is almost completely gone.” He took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles and neck. “As such, I hope you understand why I would be very pleased to have a throat down which I could shove some explosive to satisfy my demons.”

 

Every nurse and doctor present in that hallway looked at Alec mortified, slowly reaching for their pagers to either call security or the psychiatric ward.

 

“Stop making a scene, Alec,” Eve hissed, dragging him out before he could cause actual trouble. “I understand what you’re—”

 

“I doubt you do,” he interrupted her, offended. She was Q’s friend while he was his lover.

 

“I do,” she insisted, coming to a halt in front of a window, forcing Alec to turn around and look at the unconscious Q. “You have to control yourself for him. We don’t know how long James’ mission will be and you can bet your life that the first thing Q will ask for when he wakes up is where you and he are and if you are okay.”

 

Alec frowned. “Then that’s even more of a reason for me to stay by his side.” He carefully grabbed Eve’s arms to keep her from walking away from him. “Convince them to let me stay here, in the hallway and I promise that I will keep out of _everyone’s_ way and that I will be on my best behaviour.”

 

If he set his mind to do something, nothing could stop him and everyone knew that. The Queen and the Prime Minister themselves could threaten him with locking him up in a dark place somewhere and he would still do the thing he wanted because this country and its rulers meant nothing to Alec – and because he was also sure that Q wouldn’t lift a single finger to keep him out of trouble even if he did wake up. So yes, this was blackmail; give me time with Q and I will not go on a murderous rampage.

 

Eve gave him a hard stare before she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If you get in the doctors’ way—”

 

“I won’t, I promise.”

 

“Or if you go crazy and attack someone because you think they might be hurting Q—”

 

“As long as you let me handpick the people who will replace the security in this hospital, I promise not to do anything like that,” he bargained and Eve had no choice but to nod in agreement. “I will be on my best behaviour on this little plastic chair,” he picked it up and carefully put it down right next to the window, sitting down on it and smiling innocently at her.

 

“You have yourself a deal, but If I hear even one little complaint about you…” She trailed off and checked her phone, raising an eyebrow at the text that Alec had already sent her and which contained ten names. “I’ll forward you a list of all of Q’s doctors and nurses. We already did a background check on them and MI5 as well as a few independent agencies have agreed to provide security for their families just to be sure that their hands aren’t forced.”

 

Personally, Alec wished there was a possibility for him to become a doctor overnight so he could take care of Q, but the real world was devoid of the magic required to do so and thus, he had to be satisfied with what he was given.

 

He tried to charm his way into being allowed to spent the nights on that chair, but he failed miserably and when M herself came by a few hours later to check up on Q’s condition – Alec didn’t hold the fact that she hadn’t been there when Q came out of the operating room because he understood she to carry on a fight on the political field to ensure that MI6 did not lose its power and Eve was the woman’s eyes and ears – the woman informed him that after visiting hours were over, an MI6 issued car would take him to headquarters where he would sleep in the medical ward.

 

As Q slept on and he was forced to watch nurses and doctors touch him to change his bandages and remove machines that were no longer needed, but not being able to touch him himself, Alec started to hate glass. If only he’d be allowed to break every one they had in their apartment.

 

***

 

It baffled him that his mission originally calculated not to go a single day over two weeks ended up lasting _two months_. How could have that one, tiny little thing set them back for so long? Although, he suspected it might have had something to do with Q and Alec suddenly being sent away on an emergency mission, which might have explained the young man’s sudden declaration of love on the coms.

 

Might have, but didn’t.

 

The excuse felt forced and whenever he asked R how their mission was going, the woman hesitated and her voice became sadder. But there was little he could do from so far away other than hope that it was just him being paranoid.

 

His alarm bells went off the second he saw R in the terminal, huge bags under her eyes, her hair a mess, worrying her lower lip and framed by no less than five normal agents. Something _had_ happened to Q and Alec and they were there to do damage control.

 

“He woke up three days ago and Alec is with him and there is no real permanent damage to his brain or his limbs,” R started to say the second he got within hearing range, the men behind her getting ready to tackle James. “Alec only has a tiny scar on his face because he had taken his mask off, but he is otherwise in good health.”

 

It took James only a second to realize what she was talking about. “Did they complete their mission? Who was it? Were they working with another agency? In what hospital are they? Why are we sitting instead of walking to the car?” He asked in rapid succession, cracking his knuckles.

 

“They weren’t actually on a mission,” R said carefully, tugging James to the car.

 

Realization struck him like a bullet. “It was happening when he was assuring me that he loved me,” James whispered, a cold shiver traveling down his body as if Death itself had passed through him. “What happened? Who was it? Were they working alone? Are they in our custody? When can I see the ones who did this?”

 

“Bomb under his chair, a recently hired Q branch member, we think so, not yet and not even after we catch him because we want to prosecute them, not execute them,” R replied, pushing James in the car.

 

It took them forty minutes to reach the hospitals, the driver know all the right back streets that saved them from getting stuck in traffic or wasting time waiting for red to turn to green. That was way he got a half-growled ‘thanks’ when James exited the car, not even bothering to wait for R or the goonies meant to keep him in check, grabbing and scaring the first nurse his eyes landed on until he was given the right directions.

 

He slowed down as he got closer to Q’s room, coming to a complete stop right next to the door. He took a deep breath and dusted his suit, trying to listen in to see if his two lovers were awake while also seriously debating going to the Gift Shop to pick something up for Q - maybe he was lucky and they had his favourite teddy; life-sized would be preferable, but he would be satisfied with the size it was usually found in.

 

“R–” He started to whisper, only for the woman to hold up her hands and nod. “And flowers and books, if they have any. Sappy romance ones,” he added, giving her his card. “And balloons. Wait!” He grabbed her just as she was leaving. “Take the balloons off the list; they might pop. And make sure those books don’t even hint at explosions.”

 

“Do you want to go there and do it yourself?” R asked dryly, eyes narrowed. “Because if you do, we both know visiting hours will be over you’d still be trying to make up your mind–”

 

“No, no, I trust you to make good decisions,” James interrupted, pushing her towards the elevator before being distracted by some noise – not the kind you would hear during a fight or struggle, so he wasn’t worried about someone murdering his lovers while he was making a superfluous shopping list – coming from inside Q’s room.

 

He heard Alec’s loud laugh followed by Q’s annoyed huff and he relaxed a little. If they were like this, then everything was okay. He pushed his ear against the door and strained his hearing, curious to see what they were talking about, but not wanting to walk in without any sort of gifts - although if he did walk in with gifts, wouldn’t that imply that he actually stopped to buy some instead of rushing to see if they were okay? What made him the huger arsehole in this case? Not bringing his loves gifts, or bringing them?

 

“Well, you said you wanted to be sure you still had feeling in all of your fingers,” he heard Alec wheezing out. “And earlier, when I tried to get you to eat that questionable pudding, you told me to bite you. I decided to combine the two.”

 

“Of course you did,” Q grumbled, sounding a bit off. “Thank God I didn’t ask you to make sure my arse is still there. And don’t you even think about doing it or so help me, I will never look at you again.”

 

James heard Alec sigh. “Not like you’re looking at me now,” he said softly, James barely hearing the words. “Won’t you pull the covers back and let me look at your eyes? I haven’t seen them in almost two weeks and I miss them so much.” No reply. “Do you not believe me when I say that I don’t care about the marks or hair? You’re as beautiful as the day I fell for you, of only a tad paler. But again: no less breathtaking than then.

 

That was when James entered the room, gifts be damned. He was greeted by the barrel of a gun between his eyes and a knife pressed against his jugular. “Missed you too, Alec,” he said slowly, hands raised in the air. Normally, he would have tried to disarm him and their rolling around would end up being something else enterprisingly, but normally they weren’t meeting in a hospital.

 

The man had an angry red scar across his face and James waited until he lowered his gun to brush the edges of it. “It suits you, love, and it makes me want you even more.” He placed a little kiss on Alec’s lips, the man tensing up instead of relaxing as he usually did.

 

He was actually shaking and James realized that he couldn’t tell if it was because of fear or anger. “Tigr, I let nash solnyshko down,” he muttered against his ear. “I let nash svet get hurt and the man who did this to him is still free.”

 

James just wrapped his arms around him and started to rub his back, trying to ease the tension out of his muscles. His words would be useless at this point, the man clearly needing Q’s reassurance that he was telling nothing but lies – and he was sure of that because Q had allowed him by his side and nothing in the younger man’s tone of voice indicated resentment or anger.

 

He glanced at the lump in the hospital bed that couldn’t be anyone but his darling Q. “Do you agree with what he’s saying?” He asked softly and the lump huffed in that miffed way that was only reserved for the two of them and no one else – even R, when she did something that she wasn’t supposed to do, got an offended huff.

 

“I’ve been telling him since I woke up that it wasn’t his fault, but the bastard is stubborn as always and keeps blaming himself.” A bandaged arm sneaked out from under the covers and both he and Alec practically teleported next to the bed, kneeling in front of it to allow Q to caress their faces. “Did you come back in one piece, James?” He asked softly and slightly slurred, the tips of his fingers barely brushing his cheek, also caressing Alec with his knuckles.

 

James snorted and carefully took Q’s hand, kissing his palm. “You’re in the hospital and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” That was Q for you. His lovers were always top priority for him and he always came last – in the most heated of instances, James and Alec made sure of that.

 

“I had instant access to medical care and Alec was with me. You, on the other hand…” Q trailed off and James chuckled, his heart somehow managing to fill with even more love.

 

He pecked Alec’s lips before carefully nuzzling Q’s hand, placing little kisses on the fingers that had saved their lives so many times and that were now covered in bandages. “Yes love, I came back in perfect health. And now, we’re all going to work together to make sure your health is the same.”

 

That was the cue that Alec had apparently been waiting for because the second Q said that, the man started to religiously repeat the instruction he had received from the doctors. “When they release him, we have to make sure he rubs a lotion on his burns every night as well as change his bandages no more and no less than three times a day. He is not allowed near any sort of chemicals or—”

 

Q covered the man’s mouth, the covers falling back just for a fracture of a second to reveal that he no longer hand hair alongside burn marks. In that second Q moved back and scooted away from them, hissing when James moved to pull the blankets off of him to get a better look. “Don’t. Just go,” he breathed out, voice shaky.

 

He went to rest his hand on Q’s shoulder, but Alec stopped him, frowning. “Kotenok, your hair will grow back and your scars will give us more reasons to cover your face in little kisses,” Alec said carefully. “You let me see them almost two weeks ago, why not now?”

 

“They’re redder and more _pronounced_. My head is so swollen that I look like a beetroot. You won’t…” he sighed, frustrated. “We started off as a one-time thing and back then, I wouldn’t have hurt if you two just up and left. I cared for you, respected you, saw you as my friends and I was confident enough in our non-romantic relationship to not let our sex-capade affect it.”

 

“I considered it more of a sex-Olympic and I did think about getting you a platinum medal for outlasting the _both_ of us,” Alec muttered, ending up with James’ elbow embedded in his stomach.

 

But Q chuckled and James liked to imagine that he was also blushing. “Better that you were too tired to do so because I would have lubricated it and shoved it up your fine arse.”

 

Alec smiled, eyes filled with love and admiration trained on the covers. “Did you hear that, James? He would have used lube.”

 

“I wouldn’t have had,” James chimed in, both of them trying to get close to Q again only to stop when their lover scooted even further away from them, now only a move away from falling out of the bed.

 

“Are you two deaf?” They shook their heads. “Are you deliberately doing the exact opposite of what I am asking you?” They shook their heads again. “Then don’t touch me or try to touch me when I tell you not to,” Q punctuated each word in a way that he had never done with them, making them want to hug and kiss him even more, to calm and ease him, assure him that his words were law to them.

 

“We’re cold,” Alec said dumbly.

 

“Then take one of the many blankets I have at the foot of my bed, but _do not touch_ me, okay?” They nodded again and Q must have had superpowers like they suspected, because despite having his eyes covered, he saw them and carried on explaining why he was so dead set on hiding from them. “I love you now, more so than anything in the world and I simply cannot stand the thought of you two staying with me out of some form of misguided loyalty and pity.”

 

Alec and he were going to have to keep the bomber alive for at least two weeks. Or maybe three? No, a month. Yes, they were going to torture him from an entire month because he had made Q doubt their relationship, his looks – which were completely unaffected as far as they were concerned – and most importantly, the reason why they were so in love with him.

 

Q had started as a small blip on their sex-radars. He had a way of moving that intrigued them and hinted at a night of passion that would be remembered for ages. And they he showed them how wonderful and quick his mind was, relenting to their requests only when it was strategically profitable and hiding that move behind nervousness – although Q did admit to actually feeling that the first few times he went up against them.

 

After that, even when he was dressed in his most eccentric clothing in a room full of half-naked models of both sexes – Q was acting as the photographer on that mission and by God, could he take pictures that deserved to be hung in an art gallery – he stood out.

 

He had something that called out to them, to their hearts – they only realized that a bit later, when they were on the verge of losing him to a Russian computer technician – and they answered. Scared, at first, expecting Q to throw his hands up in the air and declare them unsuited and unworthy, but then grew more confident when it became clear that Q had no eyes or heart for anyone else but them and didn’t doubt their feelings even when they left or returned from honeypot missions.

 

And now he was hiding for them because he didn’t think he was _pretty_ anymore. Q, the smartest man they have ever met, the man who could hack into the NSA while he was high on cold medicine, the one who could talk for hours about each painting in _the entire world_ thought they no longer loved him because they had only fallen for his looks.

 

Then again, Q was under the influence of a lot of drugs, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking straight because a fully functional Q knew how much they hated to pretend when they weren’t on a mission. When they were home, they were free to be themselves and Q never forced them to do something they hated.

 

The one time they forced themselves to act like they liked something for his sake – Les Misérables, blasted musical that seemed to go on and on – he picked it up in the first five minutes, scolded them for three hours – honestly, he made them sit through the entire thing; that should have been punishment enough – and then banished them on the sofa for an entire night – they sat through two hours and fifty minutes of songs they hated with a passion to see Q smile and ended up with him scolding throughout the show and then feeling cold.

 

“We don’t do pity,” Alec started then seemed to remember the many cases in which they took pity on a lot of people and backtracked. “We don’t do pity relationships, Q, and you know that.”

 

“Do you find Alec less attractive?” James asked carefully and Q shook his head fast. “Then why think that of yourself? The swelling and redness will go down and even if it doesn’t, from what I’ve seen, you look like a sexy beetroot.” He realized how stupid it sounded only after he said it, Alec slapping him upside the head while glaring.

 

Q sighed and slowly pulled off the blankets, Alec and James smiling softly. He was mostly covered by bandages, but it was clear that he had exaggerated. He wasn’t that puffy and the only exposed burn was pink – in fact, the man had turned redder when R had walked in on him and his two lovers getting reacquainted with their bodies, kisses and touches in his office after a particularly long mission.

 

“Do you see pity in our eyes?” Alec asked, moving closer to Q, the man narrowing his eyes to take a good look at him, shaking his head after a few tense seconds of silence. “Then will you stop hiding from us and thinking like that?”

 

“But the other—”

 

“They don’t look as bad as you think they do,” Alec interrupted softly, carefully taking Q’s hands in his. “You will have some scarring after they remove everything, but Frankenstein’s monster, you are not.”

 

“And even if you were, we’d still love you,” James assured him, caressing the patch on his neck that wasn’t covered by bandages. “You are not thinking straight and you see a distorted version of reality because of the pain medicine they have you on.”

 

Q furrowed his eyebrows. “I suppose. I did see Alec with an extra head when I woke up this morning and you do keep changing colours.”

 

Was that normal? Should they worry? Should they call the doctor and throttle him until Q’s mind returned to normal?

 

“I feel strange,” Q concluded and rested his head on James’ lap, smiling when he saw R’s head peeking through the door.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but Bond forgot something downstairs.” She pushed the door open and came in carrying everything James had wanted her to buy, the men that had been with her at the airport bringing in the flowers.

 

Q needed only a few seconds to be coaxed out of his hiding place behind his lovers and soon openly smiled at R as the woman answered all of his questions and reassured him that his branch was doing okay, the other agents were safe and that MI6 had already allocated the funds necessary to rebuild his lair.

 

“Kotenok we’re going to bring you something to eat,” Alec said suddenly, placing a soft kiss on his lips and smiling.

 

James was just getting ready to put an arm around Q and act as the man’s back rest – he had finally finished memorizing what position Q favoured and how he could hold him without hurting him – when Alec grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

 

“James will bring you your tea,” Alec promised and Q looked elated.

 

A soft kiss from James later and the door to Q’s room was closing behind them, Alec tensing up.

 

“What’s wrong?” James asked, frowning.

 

“Oh, nothing. I just have the sobakayob who tried to kill nash krasívyj hidden in a warehouse.” He grinned darkly and James mirrored him, both of them cracking their knuckles. “What do you say we pay him a little visit after Q falls asleep?”

 

“I do so love your plans, Alec.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Солнышко моё • (Solnyshko moyo) – My sun  
> Сукин сын • (Sukin syn) – son of a bitch  
> Собакаёб • (Sobakayob) – dog fucker  
> наш солнышко • (nash solnyshko) – our little sun  
> наш свет• (nash svet) – our light  
> котенок • (kotenok) – kitten  
> наш краси́вый• (nash krasívyj) – our beautiful.


	11. Bodyguards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. Q is a hacker wanted by pretty much everyone and MI6 sends in 006 and 007 to act as his bodyguards, hoping to influence him over to their side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet dolphindreamer asked for this one and I do hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
> I feel like I failed on some points and I got horribly stuck at the end (had the scene in my mind, but not the words), but I tried.
> 
> Please excuse any and all mistakes as well as the behemoth it ended up being.

He considered some security systems to be personal insults to his genius. If you were using a firewall that he could tear through in less than two minutes, no other form of protection and be completely incapable of even detecting an outside user going crazy on your servers while also being an agency tasked with providing a country’s security, then you deserved to have all of your files posted online and the names of all your active agents shared with the other three security agencies you were trying to double-cross in the first place.

 

“But still, they should respect hackers enough to give them a challenge, right Turing?” He asked his furry companion, the cat not lazily opening on eye to glance at him from his lap, starting to purr louder still the second he was scratched behind his ear. “I’ll take that as an agreement.”

 

Okay, to be fair, the agency had a decent security system. But Q was so good at what he did that unless he was downloading a thousand files with at least two Trojans in each that were meant to send back all the data the hacker had in their computer as well as tracing them - a system that he himself had invented and bestowed upon the one agency that he loved the most without their knowledge - he considered his task easier than a walk through a park.

 

So many agencies would benefit off his genius even more than they already did if he would agree to work for them, but he learned the hard way when he was the tender age of seventeen that working alone was the only way to do really do good for the world. His then partner – who was actually his boss, but he had been incredibly blind and stupid – had tried to trick him into helping a terrorist organization.

 

Naturally, he caught on to that fast and tricked his supposed partner, offering him as well as the leaders of said terrorist group on a silver platter to a bunch of very pissed off CIA agents –his supposed partner had started off as one of their agents who had been sent to infiltrate the terrorist group only for him to sell them and his country in exchange for women, so called power and money.

 

It was also then that he had renounced his name, not only because he had been dumb enough to actually use his real one, but also because the CIA and the brother groups of the terrorist one he had taken down were searching for him, neither one being above using his grandmother - his only living relative, the woman who raised him on her own as best as she could and for which he started to hack - to get him to do what they wanted. So that foolish, innocent boy died, and every file, picture and record of him was erased from existence and Q was born.

 

Why Q? Well, his grandmother had a very interesting way of teaching him the alphabet before he learned them in school and she had described that particular letter as ‘an O with a twist, with a hint of personality to it, with that one extra dash that made it blend in with the rest and yet stick out when it was needed’ - she had been a writer in her youth, so she tended to embellish things. And that was exactly how he saw himself: like the rest, only special.

 

Though some agencies found it hard to believe that the young genius was death, they quickly shifted their attention to the new prodigy of the virtual world when Q took down no less than three organizations that were trying to destroy small countries that the Americans and British considered to be key points in their military strategy in a single week.

 

And that was when the real offers started to pour in. MI6, MI5, KGB, SRI, everyone and their metaphorical mother wanted to have him on their leash and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to simply roll over for them, they started to hunt him down, threatening him with jail if he did not turn himself in.

 

Any other hacker would have gone back into hiding again, but not Q. He loved challenges, he loved to prove how smart he was and that he could do so much good without depending on anyone. Thusly, he continued to butt in on some the missions that were clearly going to hell and save the people involved, infinitely amused at how easily the agents listened to his orders while their official retainers had to put up with them questioning what they were saying and backtalk.

 

As he became more known in his community and his services sought after, he did start to take on paid jobs, but only those he felt right about. He had no problem turning down ones that would have brought him at least a couple of millions in his offshore accounts if they were for people who only wanted to hurt others. In fact, when it came to those people, Q compromised their computers and then led a governmental agency to them, enjoying watching them get busted via their own security cameras.

 

He wasn’t getting just job offers, but a lot of people also wanted to train or work under him and some even offered to make him their bride/groom. He rejected each and every one, knowing that if he gave in that temptation, one of his would-be minions would give into the temptation of money and would sell him out in a heartbeat to either his enemies or his unwilling allies - who were, of course, still on the hunt for him because they were afraid of what he could do in case he suddenly started to hate the world or if their enemies got their hands on him.

 

Years passed, his bank accounts got bigger and reputation grew to the point that he was seen as the overlord of the web. People created hundreds of webpages in his honour, and there were countless threads in all sorts of forums where users fought over what his gender, his age, and his sexual orientation were. The more amusing posts were from people who claimed that they had either slept with him, worked with him, had been his boss at one point or that they were his best friends.

 

He sometimes spent hours in those forums, entertaining himself with the inevitable fights that resulted from the lies. Sometimes, if a post was done well enough and if the person behind it proved that they owned at least one working brain cell and he was in a good mood and feeling generous, he’d track their IP, hack their computer and leave behind a little Easter egg for them to play with.

 

Otherwise, he was very careful with that he did. He had safe houses all over the glove and when he wasn’t using one of them, he never stayed in one place for too long. When he sent his grandmother money in the form of various lottery wins - the woman never entered them, but he created a false paper and digital trail that made it seem like she did - and he never ever got involved with anyone, not even for a one night stand no matter how hot they were or how horny he was - and because of that, he was still a virgin at age 32, but he wasn’t ashamed; just a tad jealous.

 

But, statistically speaking, he was bound to screw up and that happened when his grandmother died. Heartbroken, the flew back to London - not using his real name, of course - and attended her funeral, realizing only when he was left alone his the woman’s house of the stupid thing he had done. And sure enough, half an hour later, he was being chased throughout London by some men in impeccable suits.

 

Were they hostile? Where they working for the government? Q had no idea and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out because he was either going to get shot or sent to jail, and neither of those were on his list of things to do. He managed to lose them in the subway and just as he was sighing in relief, he bumped into a new group who.

 

Their suits were dirtier and cheaper than the previous group’s and the air around them was far more dangerous. In their case, it was pretty clear that they wanted to kill or hurt him, what with the way they grinned at him as they patted the bulges that were obviously made by their hidden guns, the largest of them even pretending to shoot him with his fingers.

 

He watched with horror as his escape paths were being blocked one by one and, just as he was about to give up and slump into a seat, a drunken band of teenagers saved him by distracting the men with their loud singing and noises, giving Q the perfect opportunity to bolt out of the subway just as the doors were closing.

 

It took him two hours to reach the dingy motel he had checked in, but it felt longer. He had gone out of his way to avoid the security cameras that he normally loved, areas where there appeared to be no one and he jumped at the smallest of sounds. He couldn’t wait to get out of the U.K.

 

He bought hair dye, cringed as he turned himself into a blond, shaved, changed his name, created a new fake passport and bolted out of the motel, getting on the first flight to Germany, thinking that there he would be safe.

 

The fear that he might bump into those terrifying men – their eyes had been cold and promised unbelievable amounts of pain – came with him across all the mountains, seas and oceans he kept on crossing in hope of feeling safe until he finally had enough and made an important decision.

 

Brains always did work better with brawns and thus, he was going to get himself a couple of bodyguards.

 

***

 

It was never a good sign when they were called in M’s office not even an hour after returning to London from their latest mission. They hadn’t blown up any embassy or hotel this time, but they were missing a pretty expensive car and they might have sort-of _accidentally_ slept with the duke’s twin daughters that also happened to be married for no reason other than they looked good.

 

“That can’t be it,” James muttered under his breath, eyeing the locked cupboard in which he knew M kept her very delicious, very strong and very expensive booze. They hadn’t even had time to drink their customary glass of whiskey slash vodka in celebration of neither of them returning home in a coffin, he thought bitterly. “She would have let the duke castrate us first.”

 

Alec hummed, scratching his chin. “Or maybe she wants to do that herself since she did promise just that if we upset the man in any way or manner. Now I don’t know about you, but I counted at least twenty pictures of his daughters strewn all about his office.”

 

“Twenty-one,” James corrected, getting up from the chair and making his way to the cupboard. Since she was taking her sweet time despite sending no less than three people to ensure that both of them were in her office within the hour for this meeting, he was going to take her sweet alcohol.

 

“I am tempted to let you actually touch the lock and discover the many volts passing through it,” M said in a cold voice as she entered her office, tossing a very thin folder on her desk.

 

James smirked, clasping his hands behind his back. “I was merely admiring the beautiful handiwork, honestly.”

 

One of her eyes almost twitched, gritting her teeth. “The last time you did that, Bond, two of my bottles disappeared. One was the whiskey I got from the head of the CIA and the other was a bottle of vodka from the KGB director,” her sharp glare turned to Alec who smiled innocently.

 

Was she doing this to teach them a lesson? Because she clearly knew that they were the thieves and this was not the first time it happened. “Why have you called us so soon after a mission? I promise we were going to mail you the report later today,” James lied through his teeth, sitting back down. “We can pay you for what we took if this is about the bottles.”

 

M rolled her eyes. “As if I’d be so petty, Bond. No, you two are here because Q has resurfaced.”

 

Alec blinked slowly. “I had no idea our Quartermaster liked to go diving, but congratulations to him for figuring out what he was supposed to do after entering the water?”

 

“I am not talking about Major Boothroyd, and if any of you even so much as think about a Scrabble tile, I am demoting you to coffee makers,” she warned, glaring at them for a moment before opening the folder and pulling out three pictures of a thin young man with brown hair and a pair of glasses. “This is the Q I am talking about, a hacker considered to be a god by his own peers.”

 

They both looked at the pictures closely, James noting that he appeared to be attending a funeral and looking really sad about it. He looked malnourished and in the need of a good night’s rest, not like someone MI6 was usually interested in.

 

“Sending us to kill children who waste their lives in front of computers, M?” asked James with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

 

“Don’t underestimate boffins, James,” Alec intervened. “But even so, killing brats barely out of their diapers is not something MI6 ever did,” he added as he pushed the pictures back towards M.

 

“I’m not the MI6 director, I am the exposition fairy because you two are blind to any pieces of paper that have words on them,” M said with sudden realization, plucking a document from between the pictures and waving it in front of them. “He’s 32 and I am not sending you to kill him.”

 

Both were suddenly more interested, Alec being the one who was more vocal about it. “Oh, a honey pot mission then? For the both of us? At the same time and with the same person? My, this Q has tastes I approve of and you’re finally spoiling us, M.”

 

“I am not sending you to sleep with him either.” She sounded like she was a sentence away from smashing their heads against her mahogany desk. “He’s poked his nose in our and many other agencies for a long time and, unofficially, you two have worked with him at least five times in the past two years. Which says so much about the state of our IT branch,” she grumbled. “But it’s not just government agencies that he’s hacked; he helped took down countless terrorist organizations, corrupt rulers and exposed a lot of things certain people were trying to keep from the public eye.”

 

Alec whistled. “Are you sending us after him to present to the Queen to get knighted? Or are we supposed to act like a _friendly_ official invitation to join MI6?” His eyes met James and they both grinned. “We can be very friendly, even if it’s not an official honey pot mission.”

 

M chose to ignore him. “He first showed the world what he could do at the age of 17, but realized his mistake and faked his death, coming back as Q. I didn’t but that for a second, of course, and kept his only living relative under the heavy surveillance of half a dozen sleeper agents.” She looked less pleased of herself than she should have. “Unfortunately, so did a few organizations who want to see him dead.”

 

James narrowed his eyes. Couldn’t this boffin god have become a game creator? He looked too fragile to be able to withstand the storm that was heading his way. Or maybe he was already in the middle of it? “Have they made their move yet? Is this Q aware that he is wanted alive or dead?”

 

“They have.” So they were being sent to bring back his body? “And failed.” So he was a lucky boffin god. “Five times.” Either a very lucky boffin god or he had a few tricks up his sleeve. “That is why he is currently searching for a couple of competent and discreet bodyguards.” Alec smiled and James arranged his tie, surprised to hear the woman indirectly praising them. “You will have to face the competent and discreet parts, obviously.”

 

So much for that.

 

There was one major flaw with her plan as far as James was concerned. “Won’t he know that we’re with MI6 since he’s already been in our systems?”

 

“You do not have digital records,” M assured him. “In fact, because of him, most of our agents only have physical records, decision that has made the undercover missions surprisingly easy, what with the world relying only on what they find online.”

 

“So we become his bodyguards and then what? We can’t just drag him here; bodyguards follow the one they’re supposed to protect, not the other way around,” Alec pointed out and he nodded in agreement.

 

“Don’t put him in any danger, but when the inevitable happens and you face the waves of assassins sent after him, hint that his life would be so much easier if he ditched his life of crime and his current employer or employees and let MI6 protect him in exchange for his brain.” The emotionless way she said it made it sounds like they were the bad guys.

 

But something else caught James’ attention. “What employer? What employees?”

 

“First time you mention that, M. You are a horrible exposition fairy,” Alec mock-scolded her, clicking his tongue.

 

Of course M looked like she was ready to shoot Alec where she stood, trigger finger twitching. “I don’t actually believe he is capable of doing everything he does on his own despite his god status. But since we just found out how he looks, it is safe to say our knowledge regarding him is limited and that I expect you to also have a list of names when you return with an unharmed and cooperating Q.”

 

She might not say it, but they were her best agents to which she only gave the hardest and most delicate missions that came their way. However, although they might return with this Q in mostly one piece – Alec like to bite and scratch – the young man might not be as cooperative as M would have wanted him to be. What would she do then? Lock him up and _force_ him to help them? There was no way in hell any agent would agree to even have him under the same roof as them, let along work with the one who was probably hatching a revenge plan.

 

“I’ll burn that bridge when I have to,” was her oh so helpful answer – though to be fair, at least she bothered to give him an answer this time instead of ordering the both of them out of her office. “You just focus on getting him to hire you and please, for once in your lives, try to act like the bloody professionals everyone outside of the MI agencies thinks you are.”

 

***

 

This was a lot harder and stressful than he had anticipated. The vast majority of the men that had showed up to get the job had previously worked with movie or music stars. That would have normally made them top contenders for the position of his bodyguards, but almost every one of them sold their employers to the press which meant that they were anything but discreet and loyal to no one but their own wallets.

 

But, under all the filth that had answered his callings, there were two gems. Their records said that they served in the army together after which they found jobs as security guards at a pharmaceutical company he had dealt with a few years ago – maybe that is why they looked so familiar –and then worked as bodyguards for a few CEOs and ambassadors.  

 

“Everyone but Mister Bond and Mister Trevelyan do not meet my standards. Please vacate the building effective immediately.” He watched on the screen as one man flipped a table, another kicked the wall and two more started making obscene gestures towards the camera. The garbage he had wasted his time with.

 

Bond and Trevelyan looked with little interest at the show around them, but when one of the men started to bang on the door behind which Q was supposedly, they got up from their chairs and pushed the recalcitrant man out, cracking staring everyone else down.

 

“Hm, I might have made a good choice,” he mumbled under his breath, opening the cons again. “Mister Bond, Mister Trevelyan, please go into the next room.”

 

Of course he wasn’t there. He was too paranoid to actually come to this selection himself and since he was a genius when it came to computers, security systems, cameras and all that was technological and relied on an internet connection, it only made sense for him to oversee the whole thing from the safety of his a motel room.

 

They had impeccable senses because the minute they walked through the door, they were ready to attack, the darkness and complete silence tipping them off.

 

Over the years, Q had also taken to inventing certain things. They were not ‘Apple’ worthy, but he was quite proud of them. In this case, he had put together four low-tech robots that he thought it would help weed out the bodyguards who were silent, discreet but not good at anything else.

 

It took the two maybe seven minutes to dismember the machines and, although saddened by the loss just a bit, he was satisfied with the results. “You are both hired,” he spoke over the coms and both men turned in the direction of the speaker, the one named Trevelyan using the robot leftovers as a stepladder to get up and inspect it.

 

“ _You some kind of mad scientist? Or insane person who likes to scare people?_ ” He asked, his voice sounding very familiar to Q.

 

“And if I were, would you refuse to work for me?”

 

Trevelyan pulled a face while Bond was tugging on his jacket, trying to pull him down. “ _If you are hurting people, then we’d have to report you to the police_.”

 

He huffed, amused. “And tell them what, exactly? That someone who you have never seen and only know as Q told you they were a mad scientist? I assure you that you would be in the special ward of the hospital before either one of you even finished the sentence.”

 

“ _We’d break out and track you down_ ,” Bond supplied, finally managing to pull his friend down. “ _But I doubt you are one. I think you’re just an eccentric and slightly paranoid client.”_

 

“Only things I actually am guilty.” He opened a cab app from one of his many burner phones and tapped in the address. “So, are you two going to be my bodyguards or—”

 

“ _We’ll take the job_ ,” interrupted Trevelyan. “ _Are you going to make us look for you?_ ” He asked after a few moments of silence in which Q sent a cab after them, the hope behind the question making him laugh.

 

“Sorry to disappoint, Mister Trevelyan, but after the cab that will show up in a few minutes takes you home to pack the things you need, it will deliver you to my location.” He checked the hotel they were staying in, running a quick scan to see if any of the employees or other guests there had shady pasts just to be sure.

 

Everything checked out and, within the hour, his two new bodyguards were walking around his room after having tossed their luggage next to his bed.

 

“What are you two doing?” He asked, head tilted to the side, honestly curious.

 

Trevelyan crawled out of the bed and kneeled in front of him. “We’re checking to be sure that your room is secured, _boss_ ,” he said slowly, eyes filled with amusement at the title.

 

Q snorted, starting to dust his expensive suit. “I’ve been in here for about nine hours. I think they would have made their move by now, Mister Trevelyan. And please call me Q.”

 

They both looked embarrassed for a second, Trevelyan clearing his throat. “Well, not knowing from who we are protecting you, Q, we also took into consideration the possibility of paparazzi,” he explained. “And please call me Alec.” He took Q’s hand and shook it, sitting up.

 

Bond mirrored him, smirking. “James; a pleasure to meet you, Q. Now, can you give us a little bit of information? Like what type of people we’re supposed to keep an eye out for, the name of the company of family that will pay us, _how_ we’ll get paid, if you have any rules regarding our interaction, and how we will sleep since 24 hour protection was mentioned in the job description.”

 

Q hated this part. He was really horrible at talking with people face to face and he was aware just how made up everything was going to sound once he started to explain. “Well, my attackers always had dark suits, shades and guns hidden under their jackets.” He swallowed hard, starting to toy with the screwdriver he had in his hands. “So I suppose you need to keep an eye for people like those.”

 

James touched his shoulder gently. “We had no idea we were going to go up against people with guns, Q. You should have mentioned that little bit of information in your add.”

 

He suddenly felt horrible for having made these two waste their time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think— It makes sense, of course, now that I think about it.” He bit his lip and walked to his computer, moving the mouse to wake it up. “I’ll transfer five thousand pounds to each of your accounts as an apology and another ten thousand to bribe you into not telling anyone how I—”

 

Both men were behind him in a flash, Alec turning his chair around and James resting his strong hand on his shoulder again – Q liked the warmth that he felt through his jumper and hoped the man would somehow become attached to his skin, disturbing as that might be.

 

“We’re not saying that we won’t stay on as your bodyguards, just that we would have liked to know this. We would have brought more ammo with us,” explained James and Q sighed in relief, Alec lightly rubbing his back – would the man be offended or would he cross any lines if he offered the man extra to do that every now and then?

 

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next set of bodyguards, then.” He realized he said something wrong only when James’ brow arched up. “Well, it did take you more than five minutes to incapacitate my little toys. If you move that slow in the future, I might need new people to protect me.”

 

“To be fair, we were a little surprised that we were being attacked by robots. I don’t know about you, but it doesn’t happen to us that often.” James defended himself, walking around after Q as the young man started to pack his computer. “You said you made those things? Is that why you need bodyguards?”

 

He struggled with lifting the main unit for a second before Alec picked him up and put him on the bed, starting to do the packing for him. “In some cases, yes, but they mostly want me dead because the security systems they have around their mainframes are laughable.”

 

Alec tripped on a laptop and almost dropped the two he was carrying, Q’s heart stopping for a moment. “They’re okay,” he quickly assured Q, carefully putting them in their cases before turning to smile at him.

 

Q wanted to berate him, but was distracted by James sitting on the bed next to him – not too close, but enough for Q to be teased by his body heat. “About the rest of my questions?”

 

“Oh, right. You will be paid via bank transfer from Sweden, no family or company name attached to it. As for the rules…” he trailed off and hummed, worrying his lower lip as he tried to come up with some.

 

They were definitely not allowed with him _in_ the shower, but if they sat with their backs to him, they could be in the bathroom. Did they have to be in the same bedroom as him? If they did, he would have to buy more comfortable chairs – buy more chairs, actually. He never had more than one since they would be the first people in his house.

 

He supposed he’d also have to feed the two. “I need a list with what you’re allergic to,” he mumbled, eyes narrowed as he continued to rack his brain for anything else that might be important.

 

“Our expenses,” James offered helpfully. “Food and such while we are out with you and any hotel bills—”

 

“We’ll mostly use my houses and I will foot the bill at every restaurant.” He got up and walked around Alec, pulling out a little bag. “I will give you two cards which you can use to buy things you need, but keep in mind that cars, expensive suits, special ladies or men, and other such extravagant things will be deducted from your fee.”

 

He held the cards out to James and the man took them, quickly catching his hand in another handshake which Q liked to think of as friendly. “Though my partner and I won’t do that, I suggest you never give so much freedom to your future employees.”

 

“Planning on making me pick two new bodyguards again?” Q teased, realizing with great sadness that this was the first time in ears he talked for more than five minutes with someone face to face.

 

“Well I don’t know; maybe you are a prince of some foreign land and you suddenly decide to hire a cook? Or a maid? Or a butler that follows you around all day. We will charge you extra if we have to protect another person.” If it weren’t for the huge grin and the wink, Q would have thought James was serious. “But why are you packing? Are we going anywhere?”

 

“Well, I didn’t know if the area was secure or not—”

 

“It is,” Alec chimed in, putting Q’s bags filled with computer parts and laptops near the door – should he give him a bonus for know how to handle them? Why wasn’t there a ‘How to treat your new bodyguards for dummies’? He’d actually pay for it instead of downloading it.

 

“Or if you two were followed here—”

 

“We weren’t,” Alec interrupted again, sitting on the chair opposite Q’s bed. You look tired; if you don’t mind me asking, when is the last time you slept?”

 

He _felt_ tired, now that Alec mentioned it. “Fourteen hours ago because I had to do background checks on everyone.” The robots took him only an hour to put together since he had them shipped over in parts and under the guise of something bought off of Amazon. It was incredible how lax security was despite all the horrible things that had happened in the world – there were only so many things he could stop on his own.

 

“You could get some rest, you know,” James offered and Q narrowed his eyes, a tinge of suspicion taking seed in his heart. Was this how bodyguards were supposed to act? “Hey, we’re your bodyguards and you said you did background checks on us. You know we’re honest in what we do.”

 

James was right and again, he was tired. Even more so after Alec had pointed it out. “I’ll take a two hour powernap, but then we’re going.” He carefully placed his glasses on the bedside table and crawled under the covers, peeking at the two from under them. “You two can watch TV, even the porn channels. I got bored waiting for you and unlocked everything.”

 

“A bodyguard shouldn’t watch porn when their client is feeling uneasy,” James said in a very relaxing voice. “Alec will check the area again while pretending to get us some ice while I’ll sit on this chair and make sure no one but he enters your room, okay?”

 

Q hummed in agreement, eyelids too heavy – he might have lied to his bodyguard regarding how many hours had passed since he had slept. It felt like he was telling him a story. It had been so long since someone did that and it felt nice, even if the man was actually informing him of the security measures they were taking in order to ensure that he didn’t get killed or kidnapped.

 

“Q, would it be okay if we let you sleep more than two hours?” Alec whispered from somewhere nearby and he hummed in agreement again, trying to scoot closer to the heat source. “I think he’s cold. James, give me a blanket and you go bring the ice.”

 

James hissed something back at Alec, but Q was far too gone to actually understand what they were sort-of arguing about. But their low whispering and mumbling was a lot more nice than the TV he always had running in the background when he went to sleep, the feeling of loneliness overcoming him only when he was too tired to pretend that he was anything else but human.

 

He should have gotten bodyguards a long time ago.

 

***

 

After having been forced to fight some robots, they had expected Q to be a psychotic who lived in a huge building built under the sea, was surrounded by all sort of machines and who cackled like mad when he explained things to someone, all the while petting a cat. They couldn’t have been more wrong if they tried.

 

Q was a living oxymoron, paranoid and trusting at the same time as long as someone’s background checked out. They were both shocked at how easily he trusted them, allowing Alec to handle his equipment so soon after meeting them in person and going to sleep with them in the room, so sure that they wouldn’t rob him blind.

 

Then again, he did look like he needed a lot of rest. He had huge bags under his eyes, was a ghostly shade of white and he kept spacing out when he was trying to explain what he expected from them – proving beyond any doubt that he indeed lacked a real sense of self-preservation.

 

He slept like a log for twelve hours straight, waking up only when a slightly scared James pulled the covers back to check if he still had a pulse. The second his fingers touched Q’s neck, the man jumped out of the bed, scared and clearly looking for a way out.

 

“You’re safe, the room is safe,” James said quickly, holding his hands up for Q to see that he wasn’t armed. “You hired us as your bodyguards, do you remember?”

 

Q nodded and dropped back down, pulling the covers over his head while Alec and James stared dumbly at each other. That was one of his strange quirks, needing to wake up twice before he was actually aware of what was going on – he explained that his body woke up first and then his brain, elbowing Alec when the man started to laugh.

 

“I am pretty sure that only ex-bodyguards are allowed to laugh at the person who used to pay them,” he warned and Alec swallowed his cackles, suddenly looking serious.

 

He also loved trains, preferring them over all other forms of transport. It was a bit funny and a very sad to watch him forget that he had two people with him and glue his face to the window in their private compartment, only to be startled out of his sink when one of them asked him something.

 

“Planes would be faster,” James offered as they waited in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere for the next train.

 

Q turned white. “No planes unless it’s an emergency.”

 

“Are you scared of them?” Alec asked carefully, squeezing Q’s hand and running his thumb over the tips of his fingers.

 

“I am afraid that the plane I take just happens to be that 11th million that crashes. I can get a million bodyguards and they still won’t be able to rescue me from that fate,” Q grumbled like a swollen child, James noting that he was squeezing Alec’s hand back.

 

“Well, if you had that many at the same time, I am sure you’d survive if you stacked them under you,” Alec joked and while James groaned, Q laughed.

 

That was another thing about Q: he liked their jokes, no matter how lame they were. He genuinely laughed at them and countered with his own brand of humour that was chucked full of all sort of movie and book references. They were childish most of the times, but they somehow worked and Q’s entire face lit up when he heard them laughing, James easily imagining the young man high-fiving himself in his mind for successfully telling an actual human being that he was face to face with a joke. And again, that realization was a sad one.

 

Q revealed to them that he had at least a dozen or so hideouts disguised as normal apartments all over the world. And he wasn’t counting the hidden cabins in the words or the small cabanas on various islands. He didn’t reveal the exact locations or anything that MI6 might use against him, but both of them had participated in long missions, so they were ready to act like Q’s bodyguards for years to come.

 

It took them two weeks to get to one of Q’s lairs – his choice or words, not theirs – which was described as ‘an unassuming apartment near London’’ and the two agents used that time to lean some Q’s habits, some of the things that made him tick and against their better judgement – they had that despite what everyone else at MI6 though – and their every instinct, get attached to him like iron to a magnet.

 

His eating habits were all over the place, often forgetting that he actually had to do that in order to survive. Right on their second day, James had to trick Q in the dining compartment to get him to eat something, worried that he might die of starvation because they had yet to see him eat.

 

“If someone turns on the air conditioning in here, we’re going to have to tie you to the table to be sure you don’t get blown away,” James explained softly as Alec shoved a menu right under his nose.

 

His sleeping patterns were also detrimental to his health and both James and Alec had to wonder what deity had fallen for Q to allow him to live this long and look this good with how chaotic his life was. Even they ate and slept better and they were usually haunted by nightmares of their past deeds.

 

One of the abilities that resulted from Q’s abnormal life was that he could fall asleep anywhere and in any position. It didn’t matter if he was standing up, typing at his laptop or sitting on the most uncomfortable chair in the world. If the fumes he was running out burned up and there was no emergency for him to deal with, he just passed out. The first time he did that, he was leaning against a rail with his back at them and when the train took a left turn, he slumped against the window and slowly started to slid down, which scared them.

 

On instinct, Alec rushed to drag him to safety, practically kicking and showing everyone out of his way while James pulled out his brand new gun - bought and customized by Q, making it so that it only fired if he, Alec or Q himself pulled the trigger - and caused everyone to panic. Everyone who rushed at him to get the gun out ended up with a face full of his foot and he only calmed down when Q slapped the back of his neck.

 

“This is not discreet,” he hissed, trying to push Alec away who was still checking every part of his body to be sure that he hadn’t been shot, stabbed or poisoned via darts. “I feel asleep, that is all. Now one of you go find and pull the emergency brake and let’s get out of here before they get a good description of us or before the cops join this little ride.”

 

Alec didn’t give anyone time to brace themselves and pulled the lever, crouching down so Q would slump directly over his shoulder, James ending up with his hands flat against the young man’s backside and his face right up against his lower back - and two boots in his stomach for that.

 

“You need to eat more; I had backpacks that were heavier than you when they were empty,” admonished Alec as he effortlessly jumped out of the train, James carrying their entire luggage.

 

“I will point out that unless you had snakes or cats in those oh so heavy backpacks of yours, you also didn’t risk getting bitten or clawed.” He started to drag his nails down Alec’s tight, ending up inflicting another type of pain, one that came from his accidental teasing.

 

Alec growled and flipped him over, ending up carrying him bridal-style. “There, now the kitten cannot hurt him.” He almost bit his tongue off when Q hit his lower jaw with the back of his hand mid-laughter.

 

“I’ll dock your pay,” Q promised, the venom that accompanied his words becoming harmless and obsolete the second he wrapped his arms around Alec’s neck and rested his head against his chest.

 

Alec got to carry Q like that until James managed to get them a ride, the kind old woman that picked them up more than happy to drop them off at the next train station. She even offered Q some of the cookies she had baked for her two nephews that were coming over and James wanted to kick himself when he realized that the reason Q looked so sad as he nibbled on the sweets was because the woman reminded him of his grandmother.

 

They thought that Q would start crying the second they stepped out of the car, but he simply smiled at the woman and thanked her for everything, asking Alec to pull out the laptop with the cat sticker on it.

 

Curious, both men peeked over Q’s shoulders, almost resting their heads on it. “What are you doing?” James whispered in his ear, noting the little shiver that passed through Q’s body,

 

“I am checking to see if she needs help with anything,” Q whispered, pushing James away from his ear. “Now stop distracting me and go be a bodyguard out of my personal space.” He turned to look at Alec just as the man was poking his tongue out at James. “That goes for you as well, Alec. I didn’t know where my personal space started up until now.”

 

They apologized and stepped away from him, eyes still glued on his back. The new train came and he still wasn’t done so they carefully guided him to their compartment, Alec going to find something to eat which James ended up spoon feeding to Q – it was only fair that he did that since Alec had carried him for two hours.

 

He was finally done after two more hours and closed the laptop with a huge smile on his face, giving it to Alec to put it back. “Can any of you cook?” He asked, yawning and getting more comfortable on the seats, kicking his shoes off.

 

James raised his hand. “Do you also want me to be your cook on top of your bodyguard?”

 

Q grinned. “I’ll pay extra if you use the recipe the nice old lady just e-mailed me to bake some cookies. I have a stove in every apartment, but I only use them to heat water for ramen cups and nothing else.”

 

James took off his jacket and draped it over Q, chuckling. “I won’t charge you extra for that, Q. I do like going to restaurants or ordering in, but not every night. And seeing that Alec is a complete disaster in the kitchen,” that earned him an elbow in the stomach, but he pretended he didn’t feel it, “I was already prepared to take on the role of cook.”

 

For a moment it looked like Q was going to hug him, the way his eyes filled with happiness and wiggled his body a little, hands bawled in fists as if he was about to launch himself off of his side of the compartment right in James’ waiting arms. Maybe they could even convince him to sleep on their laps, to better protect him from anyone that might rush in the compartment to attack him.

 

But, much to his disappointment, Q controlled himself and, after thanking him, turned with his back to them and instantly fell asleep, almost completely disappearing under James’ jacket. Only his toes were poking out and of course Alec was tempted to start poking them, forcing James to smack him upside the head.

 

“ _Let him sleep_ ,” he signed and Alec pouted. “ _Or do you want him to pass out again?”_

 

“ _No, but just look at them_ ,” Alec signed back. “ _I can’t help but want to tickle him. Plus, you want to hear him laugh as much as I do, admit it._ ”

 

James sighed. “ _True, but not the point. Leave him alone. You already picked on him today and I am sure this he’ll hit you so hard this time that he’ll manage to knock out at least one tooth out of your mouth. That or impale you with one of these toothpicks he calls legs by accident_.”

 

Q did end up in their lap, although without his knowledge. The train had to brake suddenly and he was almost thrown to the floor so James and Alec turned into his mattresses, James biting his fist when Q rubbed his face against his hip, Alec not fairing any better because the man seemed to love rubbing his feet against his groin area.

 

They sat as still as possible while the man slept - still surprised that he did not wake up the instant they touched him like he had the first time James did it - glaring daggers at the poor ticket inspector who was simply doing his job.

 

When he woke up, it took him a second to realize on what exactly he was sleeping, so he rubbed and stretched and pawed at the comfortable ‘seat’ under him, his hair sticking up in such a way that they thought they saw cat ears for a second.

 

James plucked Q’s glasses from his nose before the man could break them, Alec keeping a hand on the young man’s back to keep him from falling on the ground when it finally dawned on him what he was doing and on who he was doing it.

 

“Sleepwalking is a new thing for me,” Q muttered, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  

 

Alec finally gave into temptation and poked the middle of Q’s foot, finding out in an extremely painful way that the man was incredibly ticklish. He may have been thin, but the amount of force he put behind his kicks had Alec confused for a second, his lower jaw completely numbed.

 

“Told you,” James whispered under his breath, giving Q his glasses back.

 

Q’s apartment was cold. Warmer than theirs and you could tell that someone was living there, but it lacked a personality. If you were to judge Q by the way he dressed - bright colours and very interesting combinations - you would think he lived in an explosions of colours, not a in a place that was so white and clean that you could easily mix it up with a hospital room.

 

“I have houses, not homes,” Q answered their silent questions. “The most personal thing I own is the stickers on the back of my laptops and computers.”

 

“Your company should offer you a space where you truly feel safe. Maybe you should start working for someone else?” James tried.

 

Q huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am my own company, James. I work for no one but myself. I charge people from time to time, but everything I do is for myself.” He led them to another room that didn’t have anything in it, rubbing the back of his neck. “I am afraid you will have to share a room-”

 

“Oh, that is no problem as far as we’re concerned,” Alec interrupted him, grinning. “In fact, though admitting this might cost us our new jobs, we’ll also need just a single bed.”

 

Q turned a strong shade of red, eyes widening a bit. “I assure you that I am very open about sex.” He managed to turn redder. “Not like that! I wanted to say that I am not exactly straight myself and that I don’t judge if people chose one or two or more bed partners even though I never…” He trailed off and coughed, taking off his glasses and using his shirt to clean them even though they didn’t need to be cleaned. “I wanted to say that I already ordered two single beds, but you two are mostly muscles and you can push them together. Also, the walls are sound proofed; I don’t remember why I did it, but now I am glad I did.”

 

He was adorable. Was it okay to think of a 32 year old man as adorable? Fuck it, James didn’t care. Q was adorable. He had yet to understand why MI6 and the rest of the world feared his technologic skill. As far as he – and Alec – was concerned, Q’s greatest weapon was his awkward way of being, the way he chewed and sucked on his lower lip when he wasn’t sure about what he was saying, the little ‘body wiggle’ he did when he was excited about something, the way he played with his hair when he was in deep thought and just his way of speaking.

 

Without trying or promising them the world or such other ridiculous things that a sane person would never really want, Q had managed to get two double oh agents to actually care for him – it might have something to do with the need of protection he projected resonating perfectly with their need to constantly protect something. That didn’t mean that they were going to betray MI6; just try even harder to get him to agree to work with MI6 without the use of sex.

 

Because Q was, apparently, a virgin. It didn’t exactly compute with James how someone that looked and acted like him could have remained untouched for so many years, but hell if he was complaining about it.

 

“We’ll actually need to keep the doors open if that’s the case,” Alec said, Q tilting his head to the left and looking confused. “In case someone breaks in the apartment, we’re—”

 

“Ah, that will never happen,” Q interrupted. “I have security protocols to prevent that. If I am using a certain apartment and someone tries to break in, they’ll get electrocuted and a loud alarm will go off. I was also thinking about installing guns somewhere in the walls that will shoot out tranquilizer darts, but I am still working on a proper program that can differentiate between people by just their heart beats.”

 

He spent that night showing them some of his side projects, stopping only when the food that Alec had ordered without him noticing arrived – how he had managed to avoid being captured or killed was beyond James, but he assumed that Q had gotten so comfortable around them that he ceased completely paying attention to his surroundings.

 

Two days later, an MI5 troop almost succeeded kidnapping him from a hypermarket because Q was too busy showing Alec how to _properly_ use his phones and they were too taken with him. Three days later, they were in another of Q’s apartment’s somewhere in Germany, the man almost having a panic attack when their airplane went through a patch of rough turbulences – Alec rubbed his back and James whispered reassuring words in his hear, letting the young man almost break their fingers with how hard he was squeezing their hands.

 

However, they didn’t get to enjoy Germany for too long because just as Q was starting to relax, someone tried to shoot him in the middle of a crowded place. James got him to safety while Alec tracked down Q’s attackers, broke their arms, made them all swallow all the bullets he could find and tied them up in the bathroom of a small restaurant for MI6 agents to pick them up.

 

For the next four months, the trio hoped from one country to another, running from continent to continent and Q grew more scared with each passing day. He flinched when he heard a loud noise, moved closer to his two bodyguards when he thought someone was looking at him with ill intent – completely unaware that the people were staring at him because it was hard not to – and because sleep had started to elude him completely, he worked on God knows what until he passed out in front of his computer.

 

With Q’s mental defences being weakened by the kidnapping and assassinations attempts that were steadily growing in number, James and Alec thought that they might trick him into revealing who he was working for.

 

“Ask your boss to give you more people to defend you,” James pushed, rubbing Q’s back only to end up being elbowed away.

 

“I am my own boss,” Q would hiss, stomping out of the room after which he usually proceeded to acknowledge James’ existence until the next day, even refusing to eat what the man had cooked for him – a childish move that made James think that Q had been forced to mature early.

 

After three more failed attempts on James’ part, Alec decided to also give this a go, even though he always expressed himself in the most brutal and inappropriate way. He ‘cornered’ Q not one hour after an attempt on his life, interrupting him from his furious typing by turning his chair around and catching his thin hands in one of his.

 

“Q, it’s for your best interest if you contact your bosses and tell them that you need to disappear for a while.” He foolishly ignored the green eyes full of anger that glared metaphorical daggers at him and continued to run his mouth. “The other people that you work with will surely understand. Hell, if what you are doing is so important, ask them to place you in a bunker with your colleagues until this whole thing blows.”

 

The second James saw the deep breath that Q took, his hands shaking slightly, he knew that the young man was going to explode.

 

“The people I work with?” He hissed coldly, kicking Alec in the crotch to free his hands. “I do _not_ work with anyone. I am smart—No, I am a _genius_.” He turned back to the computer and started another program. “I can hack into MI6’s oh so perfect systems in less than three minutes while I simultaneously dismantle a pseudo-hacker group that’s trying to take down a gaming company with and while I make fifty of NASA’s satellites that are orbiting around the earth form a giant dick.”

 

They watched in astonished silence as the man did exactly what he said, finally dawning on them that he was, indeed, working alone. To their shame, that made perfectly good sense since everything that they had seen Q hack and create was not something that any organizations with ill intent could use against any country.

 

He had hacked systems and then sent the companies a detailed e-mail of how he did and what needed to be changed. He stalked multiple forums and sent entertaining games – or useful tips – to the users who amused him or defended something the deeply cared for – not something as superficial as a movie or a game. Sometimes, he even found families that desperately needed helped because they were screwed over by a multibillion dollar company and he’d hack that conglomerate’s servers, searched for evidence that they were truly in the wrong, and posted it online where everyone could see.

 

He was a one-man Anonymous. His brain was truly Legion. He never forgot or forgave and they feared the day he’d truly be angry with them –even though he did not seem to be a vindictive person.

 

“You’re amazing and I’m—” Alec tried to apologize, but Q slammed his fists on the table and the man swallowed his words, actually lowering his head.

 

“I want to be alone.” He shook his head when James tried to intervene, pulling out his noise-cancelling headphones. “Do whatever you two want as long as it doesn’t involve me, because I might be too _stupid_ to understand. I am nothing more than a caveman who needs someone to dictate to him what to do.”

 

What they wanted to do that also involved him was impossible because he was a virgin who probably only had short conversations about the weather or fruits with vendors and they were lying to him. Normally they would have used that important detail against him, whisper empty promises in his lonely ear as they bedded him, made him promise to do anything they wanted if only they’d kiss or touch him again, but this was Q.

 

This was the man who, after a particularly tiring night for all of them, had tried to thank them by making breakfast for everyone. He had failed miserably, the smell of something burning rousing the two agents instantly and causing them to come running into the kitchen, Alec carrying the bag in which he knew Q kept all of his cards and his favourite laptop, ready to grab the man and bail, but at least he tried.

 

“Sorry,” he had whispered, face red, fingers pushing into the edges of a horrible sweater that was too large for him. “I’ll just find two new bodyguards for this week, so you two can—”

 

“No!” They had both shouted at the same time, startling him. “Not to blow our own horns, but we are the best,” Alec said quickly, pushing his chest in front.

 

“The best at blowing your own horns?” Q asked, hiding behind his hands as he giggled, needing a moment to pull himself together. “I still want to thank you for what you’re doing for me. And you hadn’t had time for each other since the moment you started working for me.”

 

No one, not a single target, both the ones they were sent to bed and the ones they were supposed to protect, had tried to do something nice for them. And this was one more reason why they were so infatuated with the man, why they couldn’t do what they did with the others under false pretence.

 

Because with Q, who trusted them fully and couldn’t attempt to suspect them of being double ohs, even if he stripped and spread himself on a bed in front of them, ass in the air, and told them in that sinfully posh voice of his to ‘take me all the way to Sunday and then some’, it would feel like rape.

 

Three days after they had been kicked out of Q’s personal space, they presented him with things they knew he liked – well, they knew that rare computers and computer parts were the sure thing to win him back, but Major Boothroyd was the one who sent them the actual things – alongside the sweetest cake they could find.

 

“I’m not going to fire you,” Q mumbled, trying to keep himself from tearing through the boxes so he could start playing with his new toys. “You have proven multiple times in the past that you are, indeed, the best at what you do. Not the best at not destroying the areas we are in,” two stores and one mall and Q would never let them forget it, “but the best when it comes to keeping your boss safe.”

 

“We insulted our dear friend and this is our apology,” Alec said simply and the look Q gave them was that of wonder and surprise.

 

“I am your friend?” He said, sounding so unsure of himself.

 

Alec chuckled and dared to draw close to Q, ruffling his hair, making him relax against his best attempts to stay tensed like a cat who was about to pounce. “Yes; our most dear friend who has the most brilliant mind in the world.” He moved his hand down Q’s back and pulled him into a lose hug, resting their heads together. “Our dear friend who is so lost right now and in so much danger that we’ve never been more scared in our entire lives.”

 

He spoke the truth and that scared them.

 

“But I am paying—”

 

“Then stop paying us,” James interrupted, pushing against Q’s back and wrapping his arms around them both, surprised just for a moment at how well Q’s sweet scent blended with Alec’s, creating a truly addictive sensation. “Stop paying us and let us be just your friends who like to beat up people for you and who run around cities with you in their arms.”

 

When Q hugged Alec back and rubbed his head against James’, both agents felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of their hearts. “I’m not going to do that,” he murmured stubbornly. “Especially since the things you got are very expensive. They must have set your savings accounts back by months and surely, neither of you can live without silk sheets, Dolce and Gabbana suits or Armani shoes.”

 

James clicked his tongue and jammed a finger in Q’s ribs, causing the man to jump and instantly start to laugh. “I’m sorry, but at least our suits do not look like they were found in a thrift shop’s garbage can despite costing an arm and a leg.”

 

“My clothes match my personality,” Q wheezed out, trying to get James to stop poking him, Alec not being any help with the way he blew softly in his ear just as he thought he finally got a good footing to free himself. “A splash of colour and hope in these muddled waters that are today’s society.”

 

They realized he was right and as they glanced at each other, Q managed to give them the slip and bolted out of the kitchen, holding his glasses with his hands. “I will still pay you even if I have to hack your bank accounts to give you the money!” He called over his shoulder, disappearing into his bedroom.

 

“But are we forgiven?” Alec yelled after him, heart still as small as a flea.

 

“Friends forgive each other, don’t they?” Q replied and both men slid to the floor, finally relieved.

 

They didn’t stop from trying to convince Q to give himself up, but as the months passed and the attacks became more dangerous, more precise, they grew more desperate. They feared the day when whoever was trying to kill Q would suddenly get fed up and just sent an entire fleet after him. But Q remained as stubborn as ever, sure beyond all doubt that he’d be executed for treason.

 

“Pretty sure England doesn’t do that anymore,” Alec pointed out as he lazed on top of James, in Q’s bed, watching the young man scurry around the room, carefully packing his computers – his clothes were always packed by James because he, just like Alec, had a horrible habit of just shovelling them in the bags.

 

“I refuse to risk it,” he dove between the two and fished out a tiny pad, checking to see if it was charged before putting it in its proper place. “They’d do it just to make an example out of me.”

 

James groaned, rubbing his face. “You’re an example of stubbornness.”

 

“And you’re an example of carelessness, surpassed only by Alec.” He held up bits and pieces of the man’s gun, frowning. “Do I want to know how this one found its end?”

 

Q had started to build more things in order to help them protect him. Wonderful things, things that usually got destroyed by _accident_ just as they were about to meet with their MI6 contacts who were tasked with taking them back to the Quartermaster to reverse engineer them so the other agents could use them.

 

Alec coughed, clasping his hands behind his back. “I might be the one to blame for the state of his gun this time. But all the other times, it was only his fault.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Well, my apartment is slightly bigger in the next city and I have more contacts, so I am sure that I’ll create something that will survive your hands.”

 

He didn’t, of course, and although they felt bad that Q was pushing himself a little bit more to make those things for them, at least they could go easily to sleep at night knowing that they didn’t completely sell him out.

 

They didn’t constantly insist that he ran to MI6, even though the messages they got from M were orders for them to do just that. The woman was pretty sure that Q was close to cracking and if they continued to assure him that he was going to die if he didn’t come to her, then they would complete the mission. But they hated seeing Q scared out of his mind, feeling sick to their stomach whenever they checked on him in the middle of the night only to find him shivering under the blankets, covered in cold sweat.

 

“You’re safe,” whispered James, squeezing his ankle.

 

“I know.”

 

“We’re here to protect you,” added Alec, digging through the man’s closet to find him new clothes to change in.

 

“I know,” Q growled. “I just… I close my eyes and they are in the shadows, waiting for you to go so they can…” he trailed off, rubbing angrily at his face. “And I pissed off so many groups that I still can’t find the ones who are doing this! I keep bumping into new plots that I have to stop to slow down before I find the suitable intelligence agency that can deal with them and it slows me down so much.”

 

James glanced at Alec and the man nodded, agreeing with his unspoken plan. They were going to regret this and things will become so much harder for them, but Q was so close to having a breakdown and they couldn’t let that happen.

 

“Would you feel safer if you slept with us?” James asked carefully.

 

Q shook his head, starting to undress in front of them. “That would have been acceptable if I was still a child. But I am a mature adult who just needs a moment to anchor himself in reality.”

 

Alec pulled the covers over Q, petting his hair. “If you change your mind, we have more than enough room in our bed.”

 

Not even ten minutes later, Q was shuffling in their room. James lifted the covers and Alec patted the space between them, but no one said anything. Q hesitated for a moment and it looked like he had changed his mind – they should have pretended to be asleep, damn it – but then he threw himself between them, curling up as they threw their limbs around him and made sure he was properly covered.

 

He fell asleep almost instantly and slowly, all the tension in his body started to leave. Alec started to rub his back and James ran his hand down Q’s arm, both of them seriously fighting their urge to just lean close and start kissing him.

 

By midnight, Q was no longer a ball, but a complete bed and covers hog. It made sense, of course, since this was probably the first time in forever since he had shared a bed with anyone. But damn could he hit!

 

James was almost entering deep sleep when Q turned on his back suddenly, stretching his right arm and hitting him in the face. At the same time, he stretched his left leg to the side and ended up somehow kicking Alec in the groin. He then turned on his right side and James was smacked again, but the fact that he pushed his nose against James’ neck and rubbed against him made everything better. Or worse; it depended on how you looked at things. James was going to need a lot of cold water in the morning.

 

But Q wasn’t quite done. It seemed that he still managed to feel cold, despite the warmth that he was emanating and had engulfed the two agents, because James felt him suddenly frown and pout against his neck, moving his dangerous arms off of his face to lifelessly tug at Alec as if he had confused him with a blanket.

 

Not that Alec had anything against that, allowing Q to pull him as close as he wanted, probably even nuzzling the man’s neck if he sleepy giggle Q let out was any indication.

 

“Alec, if you wake him up—”

 

“I’m not, now shut up before you do,” Alec interrupted James, _accidentally_ pinching his nipple when he threw his arm over both Q and James.

 

“Should I go back to my room?” Q asked suddenly, startling them. “Because I can feel I ended up in a strange position between you two and I can hear you arguing.” He tried to push himself up, but Alec held on tighter to him and James turned around, pushing himself closer and starting to caress the back of his neck. “Or I could stay like this.”

 

“Yes,” Alec muttered against his shoulder blades. “I like that idea the best.”

 

Q hummed and went back to sleep, relaxing and sitting still for a few good minutes, as if he was waiting for both of them to be on the edge of unconsciousness before he started attacking them with his limbs again. Maybe, unconsciously, he was getting revenge on them for the things he had made for them and they broke.

 

He did eventually find just that right position with face under James’ shirt, his wild hair tickling the man’s chin, his ass flush against Alec’s stomach – Lord have mercy on them because Q was a living weapon and he was either aware of that and he was the best actor the world had ever seen, of he was so innocent that he needed to be protected from the world around forever and ever – and slept through the night without waking up once, which was a sad first for a long time.

 

“Hmmm, morning.” The second Q mumbled those words, both Alec and James bolted out of the bed, threw their greetings over their shoulders and locked themselves in the large bathroom.

 

From that moment on, Q slept only with them and although not every morning started like that and James and Alec found enough moments to take pleasure in each other and satisfy their needs, some were still pure torture for them.

 

“Are you sure you don’t need some time off? A week or two?” Q asked three months later after their forty minute shower. “You can even pick the backup bodyguards.”

 

“Out of the question, Q,” James said stubbornly, Q’s intense gaze on his naked chest causing something to start stirring again.

 

His eyes shifted to Alec when the man walked out completely naked, pink tongue peeking out of his mouth as if he was a drooling dog. “You give us enough free time as it is and I assure you that our relationship isn’t suffering,” Alec assured him, ruffling his hair.

 

Q placed his hand on to of Alec’s to keep it in his hair. “If you have me, will you have an easier time waking up?” There was fear in his eyes again and when they took too long to answer, he pushed Alec’s hand away from him as if it burned and quickly started to make his way back to his room. “Ignore what I say or ask in the mornings; I have some very projects to work on, please don’t bother me.”

 

Only when the sound of the door closing reached their ears did their senses come back to them, the shock of having been asked that by Q wearing off. Their first instinct was to bust down the door – because they were animals, M would say – but they took a deep breath, counted to five and _knocked_ instead – because they were bloody double ohs and they could fake having manners.

 

“If my life isn’t being threatened, go away.” They knocked again. “I am working with explosives, stop annoying me.” And again. “I am handling nitroglycerin.”

 

“No you don’t and I know for sure because you were grumbling about forgetting to get some last night,” Alec reminded and Q started to cuss. “Can we _please_ come in so we can talk?”

 

“Can I _please_ die of embarrassment alone?”

 

“We’d be horrible bodyguards if we let you die of anything,” James pointed out and the door opened slowly.

 

“I am sleep talking?” Q tried and they shook their heads. “Then you are both having a collective dream.” He waved his hand in front of them as if he were a Jedi and James grabbed it gently, kissing his knuckles. “Don’t pity me or pity fuck me. And Alec, put some clothes on because it is quite obvious that you’re _cold_.”

 

Why couldn’t have Q simply be a boffin already working for MI6? What had they done to deserve this type of punishment? All the people they killed had been evil and all the people they slept with had known from the start that they were nothing more than one night stands or had bedded them with the intent to kill them afterwards or to continue their revenge on their so-called significant others.

 

They did not deserve this much bad karma.

 

They had to be really careful with what they said, especially since they didn’t actually want to turn him down but they also couldn’t come clean. Q was still in danger, still in the dark about who wanted him dead and had pretty much lost faith in everyone who wasn’t Alec or James that he interacted with after it was proven that at least seven of his contacts kept sending messages with where he currently was to some unknown figure.

 

Or maybe, they could stall for time, beg on their knees for his forgiveness when they revealed who they truly were and then have a normal relationship. Or, as normal as a relationship between three men could be, especially since two were assassins who had slept with half the planet and the third one was a reclusive genius who had known only his own touch.

 

“I am not going to pretend like we haven’t thought about you like that or like we hadn’t had interesting dreams with you or like the way you brush against us when you sleep hasn’t given us blue balls on some nights,” James started and Q looked mortified. “But I don’t think you’re ready for a physical relationship.”

 

Alec tried to be helpful, but failed. Miserably so. “Not that we’re really complaining about the blue balls.” He had to say those words out loud to realise how wrong they were, the way Q arched his eyebrow blowing away any sort of doubt he might have had about that. “Not that we’re a pair of perverts who take joy when unconscious people rub against our bodies,” he tried to backtrack, turning to look at James. “English is your first language, you do the talking.”

 

It said volumes about how much stressed Alec was under since he never backed himself into a corner and never knowingly dropped a task on James that wasn’t laundry or somehow related with groceries.

 

James held his hands up in a defeated manner, head lowered. “In my defence, he was speaking mostly Russian when we first slept together and I had no idea he was capable of saying so many stupid things.” He had made Q snort, so he really didn’t deserve that elbow in the stomach from Alec nor all the insults thrown at him in Russian.

 

Q had leaned over with the intent of rubbing his stomach and James was so ready to gloat at Alec, but froze when he realized what he was about to do. “I am an awkward 33 year old man who doesn’t know how people work and I asked a couple to sleep with me,” he said slowly, hiding his face in his hands. “I am not qualified to judge anyone because unless they are robots, I am completely lost.”

 

Alec shook his head, pointing at him. “You are awkward in an adorable way and please keep in mind that if you _feel_ like something that someone is doing is inappropriate to you, then it is. Also, you’re 32, not 33.”

 

Q started to chew on his lower lip, looking guilty. “See, someone else would have told their friends,” he sounded unsure when he said that, “that their birthday was last week.”

 

He was startled when Alec scooped him up in his arms and clung to him tightly when the man started to twirl him around. “We’ll celebrate it tonight and use it as an excuse to take you out on a date and sweep you off your feet.” He stopped suddenly and put Q down, rubbing their noses together. “Because you deserve so much more than to be just a quick fuck in the morning,” he whispered.

 

James leaned against Q’s back, burying his nose in his hair. “Before you say anything about us taking pity on you, I will remind you that just last week you saw me using someone’s crutch to beat information out of a guy who was already pleading for his life.”

 

“Well, that man had tried to kill us and the crutch was just lying—”

 

Alec gave him a little peck, silencing him. It wasn’t an actual kiss, but Q completely lost his train of thought. He looked pleasantly surprised, smiling a little as he touched his lips, glancing at Alec. He moved to brush their lips again, but stopped when he remembered James and turned to look at him, as if he was asking for approval.

 

James cupped his face and pulled him in an actual kiss, pushing him against Alec. It was messy and James even got his tongue bit by accident, but he didn’t pull back. He slowly twirled his tongue around Q’s, caressing it, trying to use it as a guide. He realized he was feeling pressure for the first time in forever to give someone that perfect kiss, but if he went by the little noises Q made and the way he clung to him, he was doing just that.

 

The kiss had to end because they still needed air, but Alec didn’t give Q more than a few seconds to fill his lungs before also giving him an actual kiss. Less messy, but just as hungry and needy. At the end, Q’s lips were so puffy that someone might think he had just gotten a Botox injection and James and Alec pretty much needed another cold shower.

 

“I’m not going to fire you if you don’t, you know,” Q whispered after a moment, trying so hard to stop licking his lips and wipe the pure happiness off of his face.

 

“Not like you could get rid of us if you did,” James whispered in his ear, pushing him against Alec until he was completely hidden from the world.

 

Q hummed. “You are my favourite pair of pests, honestly.”

 

That night they went to the most expensive restaurant they could find, James and Alec calling in quite a lot of favours within MI6 to ensure that it was safe. M was probably going to scream at them for the amount of money and resources they had spent on just this one night, but they were ready to pay back the sum and they could always pretend that this was needed in order to gain Q’s trust 100%.

 

They recognized their waiter to be 009 and the man was acting so nice towards Q, managing to get him to reveal that they were there to celebrate his birthday and then winking at him, promising to sneak him an extra dessert.

 

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Q whispered back, looking around the room to be sure that no other waiter was within earshot and James wanted to bash 009’s head against the table while Alec wanted to pull out all of his teeth for getting Q to worry about him.

 

James sneaked an arm around Q and pulled him closer, Alec placing a kiss on his neck. “I am sure that won’t happen, Q,” James assured him, sending a glare at 009.

 

“He is probably referring to a special offer where the birthday boy gets something extra and he’s trying to play the victim to get a bigger tip,” added Alec, cupping Q’s chin and turning his head to kiss his nose to distract him.

 

They didn’t let him feed himself, insisting on being allowed to spoil him and Q was more than happy to let that happen. They sometimes had him chase the spoon or fork, guiding them towards their mouths to steal little kisses before giving him his food, always making sure that his glass of wine was full. Q was tipsy before the finished the first course, cheeks slightly red, leaning against them as he giggled at whatever lame joke they told him, nuzzling their necks - a mix between pure torture and heaven, of course.

 

“I’m dizzy,” Q mumbled and took his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think I shall ever drink again. Can someone please drag me to the bathroom and order a coffee for me?”

 

“Not black tea?” James asked as he signalled 009 over, Alec carefully pulling Q to his feet and helping him lean on him.

 

Q shook his head and looked like he instantly regretted it, clinging to Alec for dear life. “I hate coffee, but I seem to remember reading something about how coffee helps sober people up.”

 

The pleasant atmosphere was ruined just as James opened his mouth to reply, five couples standing up from their tables, pulling out semiautomatics and firing a few rounds into the ceiling, ordering everyone to remain in their seats.

 

James and Alec had pulled Q under the table - the man instantly sobering up, covering his mouth with his hands to keep himself from screaming - 009 positioning himself in front of it to cover them as much as he could.

 

“We don’t want to hurt any more people than we have to,” one of the women said, three of her companions walking around the tables to collect all the cell phones. “We’re just looking for a little rat and as soon as we find the vermin, we’ll let you be.”

 

009 took out his gun and shot the man that had reached the table point-blank in the heart, killing him instantly James and Alec using the chaos created by that as a distraction to pull Q out and dash towards the bathroom - they sandwiched Q between them once again, acting as his living, breathing bulletproof vests.

 

“Place is crawling with MI6 roaches! Get rid of some and get that rat!” The woman ordered and started shooting, 009 getting hit in the shoulder.

 

Their escape path wasn’t exactly easy, a few of the waiters revealing their true colours which pissed James off because this restaurant was supposed to have been cleared beforehand by MI6. Yet there they were lying low behind a thick table, stuck in a shootout.

 

“How has England not been compromised yet? This is the nth time they fuck up,” growled Alec, managing to shoot one of their attackers right between the eyes. “James, can we go back the way we came? Force our way through the front door?”

 

“That will be a negative, 006. The doors are locked from the inside and they placed a human shield in front of them,” 009 supplied, realizing his tongue slip only when Q let out a strangled noise.

 

“We can explain–” Alec started, but a bloody grenade dropping between them interrupted and he hurried to throw it back. “But we’ll talk after you’re safe.”

 

The blast cleared a path for them and they were able to take shelter into the bathroom, Alec going out the window first, followed by a very sick looking Q, James and the wounded 009. A van pulled next to them and James just picked Q up in his arms and started running with Alec and 009 shooting to cover them.

 

But they didn’t get far, another car blocking their path. They were like cornered animals and they were ready to force them to walk over their bodies to get to Q.

 

“007, stand down,” M’s voice came from within the car in front of her, Tanner stepping out first, then Eve and then the MI6 director herself. “You were taking too long.”

 

James hid Q behind him as best as he could, Alec keeping him safe from the agents that were coming from the alley. “The restaurant was compromised; we were informed that it was secure.”

 

“You were taking too long,” she said again, signalling the other agents to try to get Q away from them and for the medics to take care of 009. “Their attacks and your attempts to keep your target alive were becoming increasingly more violent. My hand was forced-”

 

“You used him as _bait_ ,” Alec hissed.

 

M sighed and nodded, Alec’s hand flying to his neck and falling on the ground at the same time James felt a sharp pain in his, a cold numbness spreading through his body. "You were taking too long and it became clear that you were the ones who fell under his spell and not the other way around.” She seemed to be looking down at him and then he realized that she was really doing that since he was on the ground, catching a glimpse of Q who was trying to shake the agents off of him. "I’ll expect a full report when you get out of medical from both of you and have enough dignity to pass out already.”

 

He hated when he was forced to listen to her, especially when drugs were involved. But he was going to break every bone in the agent who had stuck Q just as the darkness was swallowing up his consciousness.

 

***

 

They were banned from MI6. They flew them back to England, nursed them back to health, annoyed them until they actually wrote their bloody reports – three pages each for a mission that lasted 15 months was the most anyone was going to get of them so M could stop sending the papers back to Medical because they were _never_ going to spend more than ten minutes on something as boring and useless as that – and then they were kicked out of HQ and banned.

 

Well, not banned exactly; forced to take a leave until they managed to pass their psychological exams without growling at the doctors – James – or telling them that if they don’t stop asking stupid and redundant questions, they’ll become his next moving targets – Alec, of course.

 

“Please also keep in mind that, when on downtime, all agents are seen as civilians unless there’s an emergency,” Tanner reminded them sourly, honestly looking like he was regretting having this conversation with them.

 

“What if we want to see Q?” James had to ask, even though he knew that the young man was currently seen as MI6 _property_ and thus, they weren’t allowed to be near him until they were back on active duty. And even then, if the young man refused to see them or if even one of the psychiatrists had the smallest doubt about their mental stability or their loyalty, M would do everything in her power to keep the three of them separated for good.

 

“I am sorry, Bond,” Tanner started and James just blocked out his apology. It wasn’t his fault, he understood. Hell, M herself couldn’t be blamed for this; the woman was just trying to protect her agency, the country and everyone that lived in it and if James knew Q – which he did, having lived with the man for almost a year and a half – the young man was doing nothing to prove to her that he also had the interest of the people at heart.

 

“We’re breaking in to see Q later tonight, right?” Alec asked and James nodded, both of them walking out of Tanner’s office while the man was still talking.

 

It felt like forever until the sun finally set, both men practically shivering with anticipation as they snuck in the MI6 building. Nothing had really changed security-wise within the MI6, so they had absolutely no trouble dodging the security cameras or the night guards, reaching what was supposed to be the most protected part of MI6 within five minutes.

 

Q’s cell looked comfortable, obviously made to resemble a windowless hotel room. He had a comfortable looking chair, a small desk, one shelf with books, an actual bed with decent covers and pillows and even a rug on which the young man was currently sitting on, leaning against the reinforced glass that was his prison bars.

 

Alec practically threw himself against the glass, startling Q who jumped on the far corner of his cell as he tossed the book he was reading alongside the little iPod he was using to block out any form of noise. He looked completely terrified until he recognized them and then he looked happy, which shocked them because they were expecting pure hate.

 

“Miss Moneypenny said that M wouldn’t allow you to come here,” he said as he rested his forehead against the glass as if he could really feel their hands. “I have also never been more happy in my entire life to suddenly owe someone money.”

 

That was a very strange thing to say. “Q, are you treated okay? Did they give you any strange pills? Tried the truth serum on you? Did they torture you? Do you know the name of the bastard who hit you back at the restaurant?” Alec started to bombard him with questions, James looking around the room to see if he could spot a control panel to get Q out of there.

 

Q looked mildly amused which only convinced them even more that he was drugged. “Slow down and step away from the door,” he told them, easily sliding his cell door open. “The only reason I am in here is because the ones named Quantum is still after me and MI6 didn’t do anything bad to me except give me horrible tea.”

 

James pulled him out of the cell into his arms, Alec hugging him from behind. They rubbed their heads against him, kissed every inch of exposed skin, and checked him for any bumps, cuts, or bruises, the man practically purring with pleasure.

 

“We wanted to tell you,” James whispered in his ear, nuzzling it. “But we couldn’t. _Please_ understand,” he begged.

 

Q put an arm around Alec’s waist and a hand on James’ face and neither of them would have held it against him if he tried hurting them at this point. But he just smiled, cheeks turning a pale shade of pink. “I started to get suspicious after the third assassination attempt since you were too good to be bodyguards, so I checked MI6 and I noticed that there was no mention of two agents: the infamous 007 or 006.”

 

“They could have been killed in action,” Alec pointed out, nibbling on Q’s earlobe. “So you’ve known for that long?”

 

It took Q a moment to focus, especially since James had started kissing and sucking his fingers. “Those numbers were listed as missing in action and you two weren’t trying to seduce me and turned me down when I …” He trailed off and moaned, leaning fully against Alec. “You know, I agreed helping MI6, so you can stop this if it’s a tactic to make me cooperate because I already am.”

 

Both agents froze instantly. Q had gotten the most important part wrong. “We’re doing this because we missed you and because we want to. And I think we used an entire lake of cold water not to make it obvious how much we lusted for you,” Alec said quickly, turning Q around so he could look in his eyes and see that he was being honest. “In fact, when I saw your picture the first time, I—”

 

“That’s not going to help our case,” James interrupted Alec, spinning Q to face him and cupping his face. “Him saying horribly stupid lame things? Not an actual act; he really does that all the time.” He winked at him and brushed their lips together. “Just like how I am actually charming in real life. And a good cook, and a good—”

 

Alec clicked his tongue and pulled Q back, the man clearly becoming dizzy. “Can you two please stop? I already have a headache and I do adore you both for how you are.” Alec was holding him bridal style and James was checking to see if he had a fever before he was finish talking.

 

“Did M have an actual doctor check you out after you were hit? Did you eat correctly? Sleep at least five hours a day? Is it because you drank alcohol?” Both men were asking at the same time and Q couldn’t help but smile, silencing them with a kiss each.

 

“I had problems sleeping because the bed was missing something and I was really worried that I’d win the bet.” He grabbed James’ tie when he felt him start to pull away and rubbed his face against Alec’s chest, planting a kiss on his Adam’s apple. “But please continue to carry me and kiss my forehead. That might be just the doctor ordered.”

 

James smirked, kissing Q’s nose. “Well, far be it from us not to do what the doctor ordered, right Alec?” His partner nodded, kissing the top of Q’s head. “But I think you’ll feel even better if we tended to you in an actual apartment. Our apartment, to be more precise.”

 

The smile Q gave them almost blinded them.

 

“So, you keep mentioning a bet? Mind sharing what this bet was about and who you made it with?” Alec poked as they started to head towards the exit, James giving Q his hand to hold.

 

Q’s face turned red instantly. “Well it was with the lovely Miss Moneypenny.” He actually giggled when Alec growled and James squeezed his hand harder. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to see you again since your mission was complete, but she betted me the exact opposite.”

 

“You’ll learn to never make a bet with Eve—”

 

“While you two will _never_ learn how not to cross the line,” M interrupted James, appearing in front of them with a few agents by her side, 009 included who had the _audacity_ to wave at Q with his good arm – which Q returned, so that meant they couldn’t rip that arm and beat 009 over the head with it because they might upset Q if they did.

 

But at least it was now clear why it had been so easy for them to get there and they could breathe a sigh of relief that MI6’s security hadn’t gone to hell while they were gone. That didn’t mean they were going to thank M for allowing them to see their Q or actually leave him behind when he clearly wanted to be with them.

 

“I agreed to stay here until suitable bodyguards were found,” Q spoke up and M rolled her eyes.

 

“009 is—”

 

“You sent 007 and 006 to me in the first place and they proved over and over again that they are more than capable to protect me,” Q _interrupted_ her and somehow became hotter than he already was. “I want them to continue to do just that.”

 

She glared at Q and he was more than happy to glare right back at her until she sighed and stepped to the side to let them pass. “And I want to somehow go back in time and not send them, but do I get that? No; I get bombarded with e-mails that are strike threats from my own employees unless I let the depressed 33-year old hacker who we’ve been trying to find since he was 17 meet with the two agents who might be a step away from defecting.”

 

 


	12. Meet the Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. James and Alec meet Q's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellowshipofthegay asked for our trio to meet Q's family.

Their stalkers weren’t exactly being discreet about it. Then again, it was kind of impossible for two large guys dressed in rather expensive black suits - under which they had Kevlar vests - who wore sunglasses on a cloudy day as well as obvious earwigs to be discrete in their stalking and they couldn't help but wonder who the foll who thought that two double oh agents would fail to spot them. This was the most insulting thing that happened to them since Q had sent them on a mission with two guns that had been dyed a bright pink to ‘ensure that they would lose them in the dark’.

 

Those two might as well have a giant neon sign above their heads that read 'suspicious people with obvious ill intent’ and it was in their honest opinion that bad guys really needed to stop watching spy movies because people dressed in suits who silently stared at others were not intimidating in the least nor did they blend perfectly with the masses and it made spotting them all the more borning.

 

“Can we make a left in here and break their legs now?” Alec whispered, pretty much at the end of his already short fuse.

 

Their day had been anything but perfect because Q had been shipped off for an entire month in Providenciales for a mission with ‘ _Mister goody two-shoes I always bring my equipment back in one piece so notice me and pat my flawless head, Quartermaster_ ’ that was 009. Then M had called them in her office just so she could chew them out because they blew up - by accident! - yet another embassy during their latest mission, the shouting monologue disguised as a meeting finally ending two hours later with the both of them banned from the shooting range as well as the munitions and ammunition room for at least two months. Of course this meant that they saw the two idiots following them as gift from by God Himself who had put them in their path in order to help them blow off some steam - just as soon as they found the right alley for that, of course.

 

“They installed new CCTV cameras in this area yesterday and the minion who is in charge of them tonight is the one who kept trying to steal Q from us,” James muttered under his breath, glancing at the payphone they were passing by that had suddenly started to ring. “Huh, had no idea those still worked.”

 

“Is it the one with the horrible taste in music that thought that a mixed tape was still the proper way to court someone? Or the one who kept sending Q cat videos and cat pictures in which he just happened to be almost naked?” Alec stopped suddenly, something dawning on him just as the payphone right in front of them started to ring. “I think Q needs new minions.”

 

Realizing the same thing Alec did, James nodded. “Especially since it’s neither of the ones you just mentioned, but the one who kept bringing him expensive chocolates shaped like motherboards every day and who kept brushing against him by accident despite not being in an enclosed space.”

 

Alec needed a moment to put a face to the description, clicking his tongue as they both started to walk again, the payphone falling silent once again. “Oh, now I remember the one you’re talking about. I don’t think Q or I told you this, but he had a jealousy fit when he caught us making out after he walked in on me giving you a blow job in that utility closet.”

 

James snorted. “That doesn't really narrow it down given our predilection for those kind of places when we're in a rush, but go on. I need to know how many bones he’ll break by accident the next time I bump into him.” If Moneypenny saw or heard them now, she was sure to come up with embarrassing nicknames for both of them which she would share with Q and their young lover would totally start calling them that on the coms every time they did something they weren’t supposed to.

 

Alec grinned, slowly running his hand down James’ backside. “Consider it background information in order for the rest of the story to make sense. Anyway, he enters Q’s office without knocking,” Q had a rule in place that said everyone had to knock and it was put there for their sanity ever since R had walked in on James and Alec basically double teaming him one time and she fainted, “and instantly starts to, get this, demand to know why Q was–”

 

A Mercedes pulled up right in front of them and they both reached for the guns they didn't have on them, noticing that their two stalkers had suddenly turned into six - kudos to them for managing to actually go unnoticed and shame on them for not paying better attention to their surroundings.

 

“I cannot even fathom how two people can have such a vexing conversation that they manage to completely miss the dozen phones that ring as they pass them, especially when the two men are presented to me as the supposed best that MI6 has to offer,” a posh voice that sounded like how Q might in about twenty years came from inside the car, its owner leaning out the window to flash them an annoyed smile. “Good evening, 007, 006. Please spare us the action movie scene and get in the car.”

 

“And what makes you think we’d listen to you?” James asked, eyes narrowed, smirk that he knew annoyed the people that wanted him dead, hurt, or spilling secrets in place.

 

The man chuckled, glancing at his phone. “Now that you pointed it out, that is a very foolish thing of me to believe. Why would you listen to me when you fail to obey your Quartermaster who also happens to be your lover, despite that being completely against MI6 regulations?”

 

If Q thought they had an inflated ego, then he should really meet this bastard. Or actually, no he shouldn’t. They got all sorts of evil-doer vibes from him and the fact that he knew this much about their personal lives while they didn't know anything more than the fact that he was a snobbish, nosy bastard rubbed them the wrong way.

 

“Who the hell are you and what did you snort?” Alec growled, looking around as if he was calculating the possibility of killing the bastard before the man’s guards got to him. “Do you want us to call someone to get you to the hospital because you overdosed?” He asked again, slower and in a raised voice, trying to make it seem as if the other had a hard time understanding him.

 

The man let out a frustrated sigh, starting to rub his temples. “I simply don’t understand that boy, and I swear that they are both out to get me despite everything I to for them,” he muttered as he typed something on his phone. “Do be quick with checking your phones. I have so many things to do tonight.”

 

They were more than a little unsettled when they found a text message from M, who was ordering them to just get in the bloody car and to watch the stupid things that came out of their mouths since the man they were currently annoying pretty much controlled their world as spies and could erase them from the face of the earth with little to no effort.

 

“Isn’t it lovely when everyone cooperates?” The man asked as the two agents slid in the car across from him, tapping his umbrella against the floor to signal his chauffeur that it was okay to drive away.

 

Alec rolled his eyes. “Yes, marvelous and all that. Now, what the hell do you want from us and who the fuck are you?”

 

The man let out an exaggerated suffering sigh. “I personally want you out of,” he narrowed his eyes and looked at his phone, “Q’s life, but he’s _attached_ and he’d be mopping for years to come if something was to happen to the two of you.”

 

“Threatening double oh agents is not the smartest thing to do,” James warned. “Especially if you are alone in a moving car with them.” He pulled his leg back with the clear intent of kicking the man in the face, but the bastard simply pointed his umbrella at him and a little dart shot out from it and embedded itself in his leg, instantly numbing it.

 

“Mister Trevelyan, I’d advise you to not do something as foolish as your partner since I imagine it won’t be too nice if _both_ of you had to crawl oh so many floors in order to reach your penthouse apartment.” He smiled smugly when he saw Alec relax somewhat, lowering his umbrella. “Hmm, I am truly surprised that _you_ are the one with more brain from the two of you.”

 

“Does this kidnapping have a point?” Alec snapped, pocketing the little dart he pulled out of James’ leg, helping him in a decent position.

 

The man cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “Has Q’s mood turned sour after going through the physical mail?” The confused and panicked looks he got from them answered that question. “Hmm, the invitation must still be on its way. The postal service is simply dreadful these days. I sometimes feel like they are our real enemies.” He opened the suitcase that was next to him and pulled out a thick book which he placed on Alec’s lap alongside three DVDs.

 

Alec flipped through the folder, frowning at the detailed explanation that he found about forks and glasses. “What do you expect us to do with this? What does it have to do with Q and why would he be upset after reading the mail?”

 

“I expect you to memorize everything since you are the worst possible partners that Q could have chosen – a recovering alcoholic who is in denial about being one and a pyromaniac with psychopathic tenancies when under high pressure. I do not understand why he insisted on _settling_.” He slowly shook his head, the car coming to a stop. “I included a few tests that you both can take just to be sure that you won’t make a mess out of everything. And whatever you do, for the love of God, do not be yourselves. That will simply be catastrophic.”

 

“Make a mess out of what? Can you try to make at least a little bit of sense or would that make you explode?” James growled, hitting his legs to see if he got any feeling back when the driver opened the door for him.

 

The driver - who turned out to be a mountain of a man that made the two agents take another look at the car to see if they could figure how it was possible for him to sit behind the wheel and breathe without hitting himself in the face with his own keen - easily dragged James out of the car and waited for Alec to join him before dropping his partner in his arm and starting to lumber back to his place.

 

“All will be revealed in good time, agents,” the man said, as unhelpful as ever. “Don’t forget to take those tests and I will see it as a personal favor if you keep our little meeting and conversation a secret from darling Q.” He flashed them another forced smile before rolling the window up.

 

Humiliation and embarrassment washed over them as they sat there and stared at the retreating car, both silently mulling over the fact that it should be impossible for two senior double oh agents to be caught by surprise or to come out of something like this with even less information than they had when they entered.

 

“Who the hell is he to dare to call _our_ Q ‘darling’?” Alec hissed, shaking in jealousy and cold rage. “I didn’t see a plate number. Did you see a plate number? If we get anyone from MI6 or MI5 involved, we'll be the laughing stock of both agencies, so we'll need those numbers if we call the cops—”

 

“Alec, I am down for anything you want to do, but can we please do it after you place me on a toilet? I think whatever he injected me with is slowly starting to wear off and it might have a most unpleasant side effect,” James almost pleaded – because 007 _never_ actually did that, no matter what his lovers claimed after their love making sessions – with Alec, unsure he could ever face anyone if he sullied his pants at his age.

 

“I think I heard Q talking about our elevator with R and I am sure it was about how fast the new one was.”

 

Q had actually discussed the fact that their elevator was out of service and Alec had never felt older than when he finally reached the bathroom out of breath, with his arms hurting, and his legs shaking, but just in time to save what was left of James’ honour.

 

***

 

The second the plane landed, Q got a bad feeling. It wasn’t the usual one he had whenever he was in an airplane – long live the noise-cancelling headphones he had brought along and the two litters of chamomile tea he had drank to keep himself from starting to scream about the many things that could go wrong with the flying can – or the one he got when something was going wrong back at headquarters and that made it even worse because it meant James and Alec were somehow involved.

 

He loved them dearly, trusted them with his safety and his life, but he was the first to say that they were complete disasters when it came to objects or themselves. He had become aware of that even before he was named Quartermaster, being that one boffin that actually had the guts to scold them for the state they returned their equipment – not quite realizing then that the only reason they personally turned in what little pieces they managed to bring and stayed to listen to him run his mouth off was because they were interested in him.

 

“Everything okay, Q?” 009 asked, squeezing his shoulder. “Do you need to sit down for a few minutes? I am sure the stewardess will understand.”

 

Q shook his head, taking a deep breath. “It is nothing to worry about, thank you. Just a feeling that might go away the second I see Alec and James.”

 

“You missed them that much?” 009 asked as he took all of their hand luggage before Q could even glance in their direction.

 

“Terribly so, but I what I feel right now is worry and dread,” Q muttered, one hand over his heart. “I do hope the apartment is still in one piece.”

 

009 looked amused, probably thinking that his Quartermaster was making a joke but if he knew that two years ago Q’s danger-prone lovers had managed to blow up their first apartment while cooking, he too would look worried.

 

“In that case, Quartermaster, you should go to Bond and Trevelyan and leave me to wait for the rest of our luggage,” the agent kindly offered as he gave Q the satchel he knew he couldn’t live without.

 

There was no secret that the two agents were madly in love with their Quartermaster and suffered greatly when they were apart, waiting for him at the airport even when both of them managed to have a fever at the same time – Q had taken an entire week off from work and acted as their nurse when that happened, everyone in the agency receiving an adorable picture of him spoon feeding them chicken soup that looked like an kitchen experiment gone wrong – or if their legs were broken.

 

Q didn’t need to be told twice and, after wasting five minutes with a guard who seemed to be illiterate because why else would he keep insisting on seeing his passport or ID card after he had been showed clear documentation that exempted him from doing that, he was in the loving embrace of his two lovers, face covered in kisses, and ears filled with whispers of how much he had been missed.

 

“Did anything interesting happen while I was away?” He asked as soon as he was done checking them to be sure that they were in one piece, digging his heels in the ground to keep the lights of his eyes from dragging him to their apartment before he could recover the rest of his luggage. “We have to wait for 009 because he has my clothes.”

 

“You won’t need clothes for at least a week,” Alec promised in his ear, running his hand up Q’s leg, resting it just above backside. “Especially since we have to get a better look at your tan and see if it is proper or if we’ll all need a sudden visit to an exotic island, with a private beach where we can be nude all day long and do whatever we want. And frankly, I think that's exactly what's going to happen.”

 

Q shivered, tilting his head to give James more access to his neck. “I have to present my report to M first and I feel dirty in these clothes since I’ve had them on me for more than twelve hours in unbearable heat.”

 

James hummed, licking Q’s ear. “If you feel dirty in them, then we have to get home as fast as possible and peel the offending material off of you with our teeth and make sure you are squeaky clean.”

 

Alec had already started on that, licking down his neck, and Q was ready to tell them to find the nearest bathroom when someone cleared their throat right next to them, popping their intimacy bubble.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Quartermaster,” 009 said, clearly amused, “but I fear M as well as you would be quite upset if the five personal phones that are directed at you right now would get more than they already have and the videos ended up on the internet, exposing our Quartermaster's as well as two of our agents' greatest weakness.”

 

Q was slightly mortified – and a just a tad turned on – but he had to focus on holding James and Alec back from going to snatch the phones away. They weren’t the type who got embarrassed and were more than happy to put on a show – especially when Q was part of the audience and they even admitted after getting together that they were acting extra sexy when they knew he was the one overseeing their _special_ missions - to recover the offending pieces of technology. However if there was a possibility of anyone but them to see Q aroused or see more skin than Q wanted to expose, they turned into overprotective beasts who liked to go for the eyes of the intruders.

 

“Loves, if you attack anyone, you’ll waste precious time that we could have spent together,” he pointed out and they instantly calmed down. “Plus, I already text-tasked R to erase all video evidence.”

 

Alec grinned, pecking his nose. “Our little Q moves so fast, doesn’t he, James?” The slyness in his voice indicated that he was up to something. Something that Q might enjoy quite a lot.

 

“He does, he does.” He took the luggage from 009 and linked his right arm with Q’s. “In fact, I think he might be moving too fast. If we don’t help him learn how to slow down, we might blink and find that our little rabbit is no longer by our sides.”

 

Alec flanked Q’s other side, licking his lips. “You make a very good point, James. I propose we _tie_ him down, just to be sure that he won’t dash away from us tonight.”

 

Q really tried not to shiver, but he had missed their touches, their hot kisses, and their games so much that just a hint of what was to come made it impossible. And of course his two lovers chuckled and managed to rub against him and pinch him without being obvious, making it impossible for him to sit up straight without exposing the world to his arousal.

 

But there was something more in their words. Every now and then, the two would get it in their thick heads that he would suddenly abandon them. Wake up one day, pack his bags and walk out of their lives as their lover, remaining only as their Quartermaster - which, of course, would never happen. He loved them more than we could put into words. They were his lights as much as he was theirs and he couldn’t imagine a life without waking up nestled between them, Alec’s slight snoring mixing with the chirping of the birds outside their window into a very interesting concerto while James played with his hair, a silent sentinel waiting for the house to come to life.

 

“As if I’d ever truly run away from you,” he said, chuckling. “Towards you, always, but never away.” He caressed their faces slowly, kissing them. “Still, you better anchor me to this reality just in case I accidentally float away, lost in the sensations you give me.” He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, trying to hold back a moan. “And you better do it fast because I feel as if I am about to explode.”

 

They practically picked him up and ran to the car, Q not even having time to say goodbye to 009 – not that he remembered that the agent had been with him up until he started unbuttoning his shirt, and remembered the bullet that should have embedded itself in his stomach had it not been for the agent's quick thinking.

 

“Huh, hope I got everything from 009,” he muttered and Alec growled as he grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his chest.

 

“Can you please not think of anyone else but us when you’re touching yourself?” He grumbled, pulling Q in his lap. “Or at least not anyone that gets to spend time alone with you and convince you that you made a mistake in picking us as the people to share your life with.”

 

Okay, so his lovers voicing their fears once after a long period of time in which they hadn’t been together was, sadly, normal. But when they said it twice in one day, it was a clear sign that something was definitely wrong. Add his bad feeling to the mix and Q was sure he was about to find out what a heart attack really felt like.

 

He pushed his foot against Alec’s chest to keep him at bay because the man had realized his mistake and was trying to distract him, and started to button up his shirt. “Okay, what happened? Did you get sent on another honeypot mission while I was away? Because you know I don’t hold them against you, right?”

 

Alec looked like he was tempted to start tickling him - because that was one of his silly weakness and one of the cheats his lovers used when they wanted to cheer him up if he was slightly upset or sad - but he was wise enough to start massaging his calf instead. “I think we would have preferred that,” he mumbled, kissing Q’s knee though his pants.

 

Now Q was just getting frustrated. “I have yet to invent a thought reading helmet, so please free to openly discuss what happened while I wasn’t here so we can start doing some damage control.”

 

“A man that I'm sure had a stick literally up his arse successfully kidnapped us by somehow convincing M to order us in his car,” James started, gripping the driving wheel tightly. “He then proceeded to use a tranquilizer-umbrella to numb my feet and be really vague about something that’s related to you.”

 

Q knew only of a single man who had that much power and groaned, hiding his face in the palms of his hands. It was a bloody miracle that it had taken his older brother this long to poke his nose in this unusual relationship of his - okay, so it probably had something more to do with Q threatening him to flee the country and go into hiding until he died if he dared to ruin this relationship, but he still thought that the man deserved a cake for lasting this long.

 

A four tire chocolate wedding cake with fondant icing. Maybe he was suddenly going to develop diabetes and die or maybe he was going to get his respiratory tracks clogged with chocolate and suffocate. Either way, he'd be sure to take up dancing lessons so he could properly bid him farewell when he died.

 

“How much did he offer you to dump me? Or maybe he offered you an island, clean slates, and a fresh start outside of MI6?” He wrapped himself around Alec, thankful that they were not like all the others, easily swayed from their supposed true feelings by something as petty as money or a better position on the social scale that they would lose at the first, smallest mistake. “Or maybe he threatened your jobs? Not like he’d actually manage to convince M to fire you because she knows MI6 can’t afford losing either one of you or its Quartermaster.”

 

James frowned and intentionally caught a red light so he could fully focus on Q. “None of the above, although he kept underlining how unfit we are for you and bemoaning the fact that you settled.” He leaned back and caressed Q’s face, eyes becoming softer and some of his annoyance and anger disappearing when the man started to nibble on his thumb. “Who is he to you, love? Former lover turned stalker? Disillusioned man who thought he could have you because he smelled of money and power?”

 

Q pulled a face, disgusted at those notions. “Surely you two saw at least  _some_ family resemblance under all that ego and fat the man had?” They looked like Gods when they were confident or ready for action, like living Greek sculptures when they were relaxed, but when they were confused Q found them to be the most adorable puppies in the universe which somehow shouldn’t fit in with the first two comparisons.

 

“Family resemblance?” Alec repeated, moving back a bit and taking Q’s hand in his hands, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe if you poke my eyes out, but otherwise…” He trailed off and turned to James, the man ignoring the honking cars in favor of inspecting Q’s face.

 

“No, there is _some_ ,” James admitted. “Did you get the immortality gene from him or did he have you when he was twelve?”

 

Q snorted. “He’s my brother, not my father.” He smiled when he thought about his parents, realizing that it had been ages since he had seen them. “My father is a nice man who would never do anything to harm you. And my mother is the sweetest woman on earth.” His smile dropped. “I have no idea how Mycroft came to be. I swear someone switched him at birth, although my other brother said that is, sadly, not possible.”

 

Having no choice but to start driving again, James did just that although he kept his eyes trained on Q through the rear-view mirror. “I just realized that we don’t know anything about your family. Do you have any other brothers or sisters that have an inclination towards kidnapping dangerous people or that somehow have control over important people in your family?”

 

Q shook his head, twiddling his thumbs. “Just the two brothers, but they are more than enough. Mycroft, whom you both met, is a huge control freak and Sherlock…” He trailed off, taking a deep breath. “Sherlock is his own kind of special. What did Mycroft want if he wasn’t there to bribe or scare you away from me?”

 

“He basically gave us an etiquette book,” said Alec, taking Q’s hands in his before the younger man could start nibbling on his nails. “Said we’re unfit, that you _settled_ —”

 

“I didn’t settle,” Q interrupted, frowning. “I got lucky.”

 

“We got lucky,” James corrected him. “I do agree with your brother, about you deserving the best, but Alec and I are doing our best to improve, so don't give up on us yet.” He moved his hand away from the gear shift to squeeze Q's knee, smiling at him in the rear-view mirror.

 

“Well, just give me the book and I will force feed it to him,” Q promised. “He has no right to teach my men the manners they already have, but choose only to display when it is needed. I love my cavemen the way they are.”

 

“Your _cavemen_?” Alec growled right in his ear, biting down on it hard as he sneaked his hands under Q’s shirt and began to pinch and twist his nipples. “Well then I suppose we have no other choice but to throw you over our shoulders, carry you to our cave and have our way with you.”

 

Q grinned, biting Alec’s lower lip and slipping his hand in the man’s trousers. “Oh, I can already feel how hard and big one of the clubs is. Can’t wait to play with them both.”

 

They reached home in the length of an ‘Alec kiss’ and they stumbled out of the car, James leaving the luggage to Alec - because he had Q while he drove, so it was only fitting for him to be the bellboy - and picked the confused Q up in his arms, giving him only until they reached the elevator to get his breathing under control again.

 

They ignored the neighbour they ended up sharing the elevator with, although the shocked old man did everything in his power to get their attention in order for them to stop making out in front of him. But they didn’t care. The parts of the world that were not them completely disappeared for the next three days and although Q was conscious that the food they were eating in their short breaks from each other had to be ordered, he had no idea who did it or the state they were in when they picked it up.

 

Three days later, when four sets of Egyptian cotton were ruined, the bed was actually creaking and they were all properly satisfied and everyone bore each other’s markings, Q struggled to roll away from his half-asleep lovers to check and make sure that everything was okay. Or rather, they were all too tired and spent to continue their animalistic love making, because the second Q tried to get up, both men grabbed his arms and pulled him back down.

 

“The world can wait,” James muttered tiredly, nuzzling his ear.

 

“Yes, they can all wait a few more hours," Alec agreed as he threw one leg over Q’s middle to keep him pinned in the bed.

 

Q slowly moved his hand up Alec’s leg, grinning as he suddenly pinched his thigh hard, making him flinch away. "I need to be sure that they don’t shut off our electricity or our gas.”

 

James only clung tighter to him. “We’ll keep each other warm and the war lights of candles make things more romantic, darling. And you love romantic things. I know because of the way your toes curl every time you come back home and we surprise you with either a candlelit dinner or a 'pathway’ made out of rose petals that leads you to the bed, the bathtub or that horrible bear rug that Alec insisted on buying to Christmases ago.”

 

“Hey! You like it when Q is spread out naked on it,” Alec protested.

 

“Yes and it’s the only time I do. All the other times, I am seriously tempted to spill five bottles of red wine on it or a gas canister and accidentally set it on fire.”

 

Q tried to pinch James, but he couldn’t pull the same trick twice so he ended up under the man, his hands held above his head and with Alec getting his revenge by leaving behind very obvious love bites on his neck. “Yes, but my toes will curl out of anger if I can’t charge my laptops or phones in our own home.” He was also waiting for a few special gifts that he was sure his lovers would enjoy and he wanted to see if they finally arrived or if he needed to scare the postal services of a few countries to make them understand to never be late with packages to this address.

 

Reluctantly, his lovers let him leave but not without getting a kiss from each of them first. He couldn’t help but hum as he pulled on the pair of pants and t-shirt he finally found after five minute of searching – none of them belonging to him because his lovers were dead set on seeing him walk either naked or in something that was theirs around the house, the horny bastards - and slowly shuffled out of their bedroom, surprised that he didn't need a map to get around the apartment.

 

His good mood came to a sudden stop when he finished going through to the mail. It wasn’t the countless speeding tickets he found, the ten or so letters that a poor soul from Accounting had personally addressed to James and Alec, or even the sight of a purple envelope that smelled of lavender – that one made him want to leap for joy. No, it was the thirty envelopes that came with that letter, address neatly typed on an old fashion typewriter that made him want to crawl under a rock and die.

 

“Is everything in order, sir?” The doorman asked, already holding the phone in his hand.

 

“Yes, yes, I am fine,” Q whispered, voice shaking a bit.

 

“You look a little pale; should I call Mister Bond and Mister Trevelyan here to help you? Or should I call the ambulance first and them afterwards?” The doorman insisted, looking genuinely worried.

 

Q shoved the envelopes in his pockets, giving the man a forced smile. “I forgot to pay a bill and their threats are nauseating.”

 

The elevator ride back up took forever and when he entered the apartment, he slammed the door behind him which instantly alerted his lovers that something wasn’t right so they came out running from the bedroom, guns in their hands.

 

“I don't know how it didn't dawn on me that the bloody bastard wanted to train you for mother’s birthday dinner,” he growled, starting up the shredder. “I will crash every computer, laptop, phone, and tablet he owns!” He promised, shaking with anger.

 

They pulled him away from the machine before he did something stupid in his anger and sat him on the sofa, Alec starting to massage his back while James trailed little kisses on his forehead, trying to get rid of his frown.

 

“Are we invited to that?” James asked carefully.

 

“Of course,” Q said in a breath. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want—”

 

“We do,” Alec interrupted him, pulling his back flush against his chest. “We never met anyone’s family and we want to meet your family and thank your parents for bringing such perfection into this world.”

 

Q clicked his tongue. “I'd understand why you wouldn't since both of my brothers will be there and Mycroft tried to _train_ you like dogs,” Q grumbled. “I’ll definitely kill him, even if England collapses without him. Thinking that you are not worthy of me is one thing because I know you are more than that, but thinking that **_you_** are unworthy of meeting our parents?”

 

James hushed him and rolled him on his back. “You’re a ball of tension again, love.” He squeezed Alec’s shoulder and the man nodded, placing a kiss on his hand. “What do you say if I make you your favourite tea and Alec gives you another one of his special massages? And then we plot together Mycroft’s downfall?”

 

Q liked that plan very much. “But afterwards I am going to the store to get what I need to bake a special cake for Mycroft. Free of poison since mother and father will be upset if that happens, but filled with his etiquette book and CDs.”

 

“We’ll even do our best not to distract you,” Alec promised and James nodded, both of them winking.

 

It turned out that they were winking at each other, silently agreeing to do everything they could to distract him from doing anything stupid. Bloody, lovable bastards.

 

***

 

From the moment they woke up, James and Alec knew that the day was going to be a complete disaster. Now, normally they weren’t a superstitious bunch, but when two field agents that are trained to wake up at the smallest of noises somehow managed to sleep through four very loud alarms, it was clear that something greater than logic and common sense was at work.

 

Their paranoia continued to be fed by almost poisoning Q with the eggs because James missed the fact that they had expired three days ago, Alec almost ran him over with the car when he backed out of the garage because Q had crouched down to pick up his phone just as the car started to move and when they were halfway to Q’s house, they realized that they had forgotten Q’s clothes.

 

“There’s a mall over in the next town; we’ll stop and I’ll buy some clothes there,” Q offered, smiling softly at the both of them as he rubbed the back of their necks. “We don’t have time to go back, understand?”

 

James nodded slowly and, with a defeated sigh, he continued to drive.

 

In the mall, they managed to get separated and since Q’s phone had ran out of battery, Alec was very close to strangling one of the mall workers because he refused to let them use the coms to find their lover. James offered the man a bribe and, five hundred quid later, Q was putting his new bag filled with new clothes in the back of their car.

 

“We’ll all be laughing about this in a couple of weeks, trust me,” Q said optimistically, kissing them both. “And my parents will find this completely—”

 

“Let’s not tell your parents, okay?” James interrupted, arranging his cufflinks for the nth time in the last ten minutes, a clear sign that he was under a lot of stress.

 

“I agree with James,” Alec chimed in before Q could say anything. “I mean I certainly wouldn’t like my child’s lovers if the first thing I heard during our very first meeting was ‘Hey, funny story, we lost the light of your eyes on our way here after almost running him over and leaving his clothes at home while we made sure that we had everything we needed’.”

 

“Well, if you put like that then of course they’ll hate you,” Q grumbled, covering their faces with little kisses to get them to relax. “But no matter what, I know you didn’t do it on purpose and I will love you forever and a day.”

 

Despite his reassurance, they were still afraid that his family might put enough pressure on him to get him to dump them, but they would never hold that against him - especially since they had tasted some of Mycroft’s power first hand. And the second they stepped into the house and saw the way Q’s parents glared at them when their child wasn’t looking, they knew that it would either take them forever to be liked or Q’s parents would die hating them and pestering their child to dump him.

 

Still, they both kept their smiles on and presented Q’s mother with their gifts - expensive bottles of perfumes, hand moisturizers, a silk scarf and a fur coat - kissed her hand like proper gentlemen should and shook hands with Q’s father.

 

“We were expecting you one hour ago,” someone said from behind them and both agents turned around, by instinct pulling Q away from the newcomer’s voice and reaching for their guns.

 

They were greeted by the sight of a tall, thin young man with wild hair that almost rivaled Q’s and that had the most bored expression they had ever seen on a living human being, looking like he was dissecting them with his cold eyes.

 

“Sherlock, don’t,” Q warned, but it fell on deaf ears and Q groaned as the man opened his mouth and a cascade of insults began to pour out in the most posh, and monotone voice tone they had ever heard.

 

“The one who indulges in alcohol a bit too much, but not enough to be considered an alcoholic managed to sneak a small bottle of,” he stopped and leaned close to James, taking a deep whiff of his breath, “whiskey before entering the house when the other one was distracting Q with a kiss. If you would have done that before driving my baby brother here, you would have been standing in a puddle of your own blood.”

 

“Sherlock, I swear to God—” Q started only to be drowned out by his brother’s almost robotic voice.

 

“They’re both holding on to you like they are afraid you’re going to leave them the second they let you go,” he glanced at their linked hands and grinned when he saw them squeeze tighter, Q hiding their hands behind his back. “Funny, at first I thought they were doing that because they were afraid they might snap and attack me.”

 

“I fail to see how this is funny, Sherlock. Are you done picking on my lovers?” Q grumbled, frowning.

 

“The other one has had plastic surgery – nothing that affected the bone structure – on the right side of his face in the last year.” He narrowed his eyes after he said that, clicking his tongue. “A complete waste of time since your face got injured again and my brother isn’t superficial.” He turned to Q, tugging on his arm to get his attention. “Shouldn’t they know that if you are dating them and brought them home to meet your family, following that completely useless and moronic tradition?”

 

But Q didn't hear any of that, much to focused on how much he wanted to slap both of his brothers - because of course Mycroft would know about this - and Alec. “Did you know?” He hissed at James, narrowing his eyes when the man nodded. “Alec, what on Earth…” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “We will talk about this later. And Sherlock,” he practically shouted in the man’s ear, making him flinch, “stop deducing my lovers.”

 

“Yes, Sherlock,” Q’s mother finally intervened when it seemed that there were no more dirty secrets to be revealed – she clearly waited this long because she wanted to find out things about them that otherwise she couldn’t so she would have more reasons to dislike them, Alec was sure. “It is extremely rude and you are upsetting your baby brother.” She leaned close to Q and kissed his cheeks, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so. How is it that I see more of Sherlock than I do of you? Mycroft, can’t you do anything to fix that?”

 

Like a devil being summoned, Mycroft appeared out of seemingly nowhere, brushing his impeccable suit and flashing them that annoying smile of his. “I do so try, Mother, but you know how your youngest gets when I try to intervene.”

 

Q snorted. “When your idea of intervention is having M fire me so you can keep me chained to your bloody desk, you—”

 

“Language,” his mother instantly cut in, tugging on a strand of his messy hair. “You used to be such a well behaved child. I wonder what caused you to start using such words.” She was glaring at Alec and James so the woman clearly wasn’t wondering at this point as much as silently accusing them of corrupting her little angel – and they both knew that Q was anything but an angel, especially in bed. The man could be Satan himself when he felt like it.

 

Sherlock huffed. “He was cussing before he started working for the government.” Maybe the man was on their side? “But I have heard him using more colourful words that are sometimes in Russian since he started having intercourse with these two.” No, he was definitely their enemy. No one but Q liked them in this family.

 

“Do you want me to pour water on your secret cigarette stash?” Q asked, eye twitching.

 

“Boys, boys, don’t fight,” his father intervened, his voice soft. “Now, why don’t we three unload the car while…” He trailed off, frowning as he turned to look at his wife. “Darling, what is our boy calling himself nowadays?”

 

“Being the Quartermaster of MI6, he refers to himself as Q,” Mycroft answered, his phone buzzing in his pocket. “Please excuse me; must keep London from falling and everything.”

 

He disappeared as fast as he had appeared and James was looking around for the smoke while Alec tried to see if he could smell the sulfur that supposedly followed demons everywhere they went.

 

“Q’s young men,” he licked his lips and leaned closer to them, really studying them, “or should I say Q’s men? You look almost as old if not older than my eldest.” He started to chuckle, but stopped when he saw Q pouting. “Sorry, sorry, I was just kidding. They are young enough to help my wife with setting the table. I trust they _know_ how to do that?”

 

Sherlock snorted but Q elbowed him before he could say anything. “Father, don’t you start insulting my lovers.” He turned with a loving smile at them despite clearly still being more than upset for keeping Alec’s surgery a secret from him. “You don’t mind helping my—”

 

“Of course we don’t,” they said at the same time.

 

“Interrupting you,” Sherlock grumbled, hands behind his back. “In some cases, it is a clear sign of an abusive relationship and I’ve also been told that it's considered to be a very rude thing to do.” He got another elbow from Q.

 

“As is being an arse, Sherlock. And no one is abusing anyone in this relationship, but if you keep running your mouth without thinking first, I’ll abuse you, you pompous arse,” Q grumbled, elbowing him a couple more times before his father pushed them both out the front door, leaving James and Alec alone with Q’s mother.

 

The woman’s kind smile disappeared instantly, her back straightening and all the warmness she was giving off not a moment ago was suddenly replaced with frost. It was natural for her to dislike them, especially since she knew what they did for a living. There was also a chance that she knew they had to sleep with other people and while Q didn’t consider that to be cheating, others might.

 

She showed them to the living room – a cosy and warm room, despite its size – and silently pointed to where everything was. “It’s a two course meal with appetizers, a desert that’s not the cake, and two types of wine. Tea and juice are a given since Q is here and I trust you _at least_ his strong distaste for anything alcoholic.”

 

Of course they did. They also knew that he didn’t actually hate alcohol, but his weakness to it, Q managing to get drunk from a single glass of red wine. They also knew how he liked his tea and they were so tempted to ask her to let them prepare it for him just to show her their vast knowledge of her youngest. But this was not a contest between them and Q’s parents – they were bound to lose it anyway if they brought up the types of games or clothes Q liked as a child – so they simply nodded and started setting the table.

 

They had done this a thousand times in the past, they had been to dinners at palaces and sometimes, they had even attended as waiters, so they knew where everything went. But now, under the judging eyes of Q’s mother, they were second guessing everything. Did they put the spoon in the right place? Was it the right spoon? Were three crystal glasses and a china cup enough or were they supposed to put more? Did they set them down too hard and cracked them? Where they doing anything right?

 

“My youngest is the only one of my children who embraces his feelings,” the woman said suddenly, startling them. “Mycroft, darling boy, has tried to teach him time and time again that feelings are nothing but a weakness and even Sherlock, who always does the exact opposite of what Mycroft says, tried to show my little boy how to stop feeling.”

 

They glanced at each other and just when James opened his mouth to say something, the woman started speaking again, fixing them with her cold eyes.

 

“If you make him shed a single tear because of his love for either one of you, I will personally hunt you down and hang you by your own guts.” In that moment, they were sure that M herself would shiver in fear. “I was rooting for that nice woman that’s always by his side to win his heart or that man that always answers his phone for him when he’s too busy trying to keep either one of you dying, but Q fell for you and I am afraid for him and for his heart.”

 

“We’ll take good care of his heart—”

 

“You sleep with people on missions and he has to listen,” she interrupted James, starting to angrily fold some napkins. “You disappear for days and weeks and he calls me then, voice shaking and lying through his teeth about being alright and just missing my voice. You are putting little cracks in his heart, but if you manage to break it, nothing on this world will keep you safe **_my_** wrath, understand?”

 

They nodded once, eyes wide.

 

“Not my husband’s, not Sherlock’s, not Mycroft’s. **Mine**.” She took a deep breath and calmed down just as Q walked into the room, looking annoyed at Sherlock who was studying one of the newly bought shirts. “There are two of my favourite boys.” She kissed Q’s cheeks again, but Sherlock managed to duck out just in time.

 

“You know how I feel about this, mother. And I also think _Q_ could do without being shown affection for a few days,” he glanced at them when he said this, “especially since some of the marks are still visible even under all that makeup.”

 

Q’s hand instantly flew to his neck, taking a few steps back so his mother couldn’t take a better look. “You should really learn when to keep your mouth, Sherlock,” he hissed and by this point, he was outright running from his mother.

 

Sherlock hummed, tossing Q’s new jacket on the back of a chair. “As your lovers should learn to be sure that you actually have your bag in their car, right? That jacket is brand new; only worn when you checked to be sure it fit you. The bag you had me carry to your room is also new, lacking any sort of scratches that are usually found—”

 

“Have fun putting up with Mycroft without your cigarettes, Sherlock.” Q stomped out of the living room and Sherlock gave him chase, their mother hot on their heels, asking them to behave.

 

Left alone with Q’s father, who had shifted from looking like a kind man who loved nothing more than to play checkers and share war stories with his grandchildren to looking like a bitter war general who was ready to pull out a machine gun at any second and fight off another invasion and James and Alec felt dangerously unprepared.

 

“I hear from Mycroft that you two go on something called ‘honeypot’ missions.” As with the mother, they nodded mutely and he flashed them a smile reminiscent of Mycroft’s annoying ones. “Would you be so kind to remind me what a mission like that entails?”

 

Yes, yes they would. They wanted nothing more than for this trip to come to an end and go back to their apartment with Q where they could start wooing him again and try to convince him not to dump them for pretty much anyone else on the planet. But the way he was looking at them made it impossible for them to turn him down – so Q got that from his father; how very interesting.

 

“It is an espionage recruitment method that involves sexual seduction,” James explained slowly, feeling really awkward.

 

Q’s father hummed, nodding. “So, in layman’s terms, both of you are cheating on your lover, who just so happens to be my youngest son and since he is your Quartermaster he has to not only suit you up or whatever he does, but also to _listen in_ while you do that to make sure you are not killed.”

 

“We can’t turn them down,” Alec snapped. “We tried, but our targets _specifically_ ask for us and to keep Q safe and by association, this country and everyone in it, we act like hookers.” A very disgusting way to put things and although it had been fun at first, after Q came in their life, they started to feel like the lowest life forms on the face of the planet. Especially when Q was in their ears, whispering, moaning, _helping_ them complete their mission.

 

“We love your son,” James continued for Alec. “He is the centre of our universes, the warm light in our otherwise dark lives and the reason why we’re still breathing and sitting here.”

 

He wanted to say more, but Q walked back in the room, looking triumphant. “And if you deduce anything about my lovers or me, I will call the good doctor.” He walked to the table and Alec pulled the chair for him, looking hurt when Q refused to look at him. “Now, how about dinner? I heard Mycroft whispering something about a nuclear warhead in Turkish and I want him to get to eat at least three slices of the cake.”

 

“If he goes for four, he might explode,” Sherlock muttered without looking up from his phone. “Mother, I am giving my slice of the cake to Mycroft.”

 

“The world’s greatest detective and MI6’s best Quartermaster, acting like five year olds,” Mycroft said as he sat down at the table, actually putting away his phone. “It warms my heart to see and hear them plot my slow and painful death after everything I do for them.”

 

Their mother clicked her tongue just before an actual fight broke off, putting a stop to everything. “We should all start eating before the food gets cold, okay?” She asked sweetly, thought there was a hint of danger in her voice.

 

Although the food was good, the dinner was anything but pleasant. Q’s parents glared at them every time their hands brushed against their son's, Q refused to look at them, and his brothers kept taking stabs at them with Mycroft in the lead – asking them about their latest mission, mentioning about how close they were to dying, about how tired Q looked when they had lunch on that day, about how red and puffy his eyes were, clear signs that he had actually cried.

 

It was then that Q had enough and he slammed his cup of tea down, pushing the plate with the half-eaten slice of cake away from him. “I have had quite enough of all of this. I love James and Alec, even if they do stupid things like getting plastic surgery—”

 

“It was only a small one to cover up a few scratches,” Sherlock cut in, closing his mouth when he saw the raw anger in Q’s eyes.

 

“I love them no matter what they do,” Q started to say again, squeezing the hands that instantly wrapped around his. “They are kind, thoughtful lovers who do their best to make this work. Yes, they have honeypot missions and yes, they had _a lot_ of other lovers in the past, but I will never hold that against them. That is a part of them and I love them as a whole. You don’t have to like them, because I do. Now can we move on and stop throwing little quips and cheap shots? Or should I get my bags and never step foot in this house ever again?”

 

The silence that followed was broken by his mother. “We only care about your happiness, child.”

 

“Mother, I am happy,” he insisted. “When I am with them, I feel whole. I feel like I am floating when they are kissing me and they can even make my toes curl without doing anything sexual. They are very careful with me and they do everything they can to keep me happy.”

 

“We’re only happy when you are,” Alec spoke up, kissing his hand. “You and James are all that matter to me.”

 

“And you and Alec are all that matter to me,” James added and Q looked at them with so much more love than they deserved.

 

“If you’re happy…” Q’s father started, lifting his glass of wine, followed by the others – although with a lot of reluctance from Sherlock and Mycroft, only doing it because their mother glared at them. “For your health and well-being because that represents my boy’s happiness.”

 

They drank in their honour and the dinner actually became pleasant. By the time everything was over, they had gotten Q’s mother to actually laugh three times, his father to chuckle twice and Mycroft even nodded in agreement to something they said. Sherlock ignored them, which they considered to be for the best, especially since they were planning on surprising Q with a trip to the Maldives in a few days and they were afraid he might out them out.

 

Mycroft was the first to leave the table, then Sherlock and then finally, Q’s parents who actually wished them a good night.

 

But their night was far from being over or a good one, a fact made clear by the warmness that got instantly sucked out of Q's eyes and replaced by anger, hurt, and insult. “Plastic surgery?” He hissed, walking away from them.

 

“Like your brother said, it wasn’t anything major.” Alec tried to pacify him, but it only served to further upset him.

 

“If it wasn’t anything major, why did you go through with it? _Where_ and _when_ did you go through it? Was it that week I couldn’t find you anywhere?” He demanded, obviously doing his best to keep his voice to normal levels.

 

Alec nodded, lowering his head in shame. “The bomb went off earlier than expected—”

 

“Yes and my heart exploded with it,” Q interrupted. “I thought you had _died_. I thought I was alone! I thought the first agents I lost were my own lovers and I thought that happened because I left my emotions get the best of me and I hesitated!”

 

They wrapped themselves around Q and started to rub his shoulders and his lower back, trying to get him to relax. “We didn’t want you to blame yourself—”

 

Q threw his hands up and huffed. “How can I blame myself for something that I did not have control over? The bomb was not of my design, you had been warned…” He trailed off and groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Great, I have a headache now.”

 

He allowed them to place small kisses where his fingers were, visibly relaxing. Then, slowly, almost afraid, he raised his hand and gently touched Alec’s left side of the face, eyes filling with worry.

 

“Was it dangerous? Could you have died? Did you two have life-threatening injuries that Medical might have helped heal?” He asked softly and Alec pushed his face against Q’s palm, kissing it.

 

“James called in some favours and one of them was to a private clinic. We were safe and in good hands,” Alec assured him.

 

“And stupid, so incredibly stupid,” James added, plucking Q’s glasses from his face so he could start rubbing his thumb down his nose and under his eyes.

 

“I didn’t notice.”

 

They let out little distressed noises then, bothered by how horrified Q sounded. Alec took Q’s face in his hands and turned him to look him in the eyes, running his thumbs over his temples. “You refused to look at us for an entire month after that incident and like Sherlock said, my face got injured again shortly after. That time we called you and you came to us faster than a speeding bullet,” he tried to joke.

 

Q cracked a small smile. “You both looked like you belonged in a tomb in Egypt, what with how many bandages you had wrapped around you.”

 

“Do you forgive us?” James asked, his voice trembling.

 

Q sighed. “It’s going to take more than this for me to forgive you and there will be a lot of grovelling involved. And if either of you ever do something like that again, I will end this relationship faster than you can blink because you have to trust me as a lover.” He cracked a smile, opening one eye. “But I won’t hold this above your head forever.”

 

He pushed his lips forward, a clear invitation to being kissed, one that James was more than happy to comply. Alec was next and he got an added bonus of a trail of kisses down his cheek and a nuzzling and they all got the distinct impression that Q would obsess over that part of his body for quite a while.

 

“Eavesdropping, mother?” Mycroft whispered in the woman’s ear, both of them hidden from the trip behind a wall. “Might I hazard a guess and say all of your offspring got this horrible habit from you?”

 

She let out a small huff, smiling. “I am simply making sure everything is okay with my youngest.” She watched in silence as the two men continued to kiss her son, running their fingers down his spine and over his knuckles. “They do love him, don’t they?”

 

Mycroft arched one of eyebrows, glancing at the sight. “Both Q and they were quite vocal about that during the dinner and even Sherlock said as much, I am sure. Or do you not trust the words of the world’s greatest detective and those of a genius?”

 

That earned him a tug on his ear and a click of a tongue. “I trust what my boys tell me and Sherlock is still learning the benefits of little white lies. But love can blind someone, so while I do trust that Q is indeed in love with them…” She trailed off, unsure.

 

“They do,” Mycroft said after a few moments of tense silence. “They are very much in love with each other and I do fear what might happen if either one of them is lost.”

 

Linking their arms together, his mother turned her back on the loving scene and started to walk towards the bedrooms. “Well then a certain shadow will have to make sure that nothing as horrible as that happens, right?”

 

“Don’t I always, mother?” They stopped in front of Mycroft’s bedroom and he took her hand, kissing it. “I will also try to see if I can do anything about getting them out of any future honeypot missions.”

 

She smiled, petting his head. “My boys’ happiness is the only birthday gift I need.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments <3


	13. Hard times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet anonymous asked for banter between our favourite couple, but I ended up delivering innuendo - sorry. 
> 
> Even so, I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did when I wrote it.

M was having a real hard time believing her eyes and ears. She had to check her badge three times to make sure that she was indeed working for the MI6 and not for some sleazy hotline. And she still couldn’t quite be sure that she hadn’t slipped into a parallel universe where that was what MI6 actually was, what with everything she was hearing.

 

“Just slip it in very carefully,” the Quartermaster, a young genius whom she could have never imagined using innuendo until he met the bane of everyone’s existence which was known as agent James Bond with the designated number of 007, breathed out, rolling a strand of his curly brown hair on one of his fingers.

 

Bond, in return, chuckled and whispered lowly. “ _You know I am always careful when it comes to sliding one thing in something else, Quartermaster.”_

 

She really wished Q wouldn’t smile like he had just hit a big jackpot at a lottery. “Hmm, I still need more evidence to sustain that, Bond. Most of the times you shove it in like you’re a caveman.”

 

“Because he is; now please focus on the task at hand,” she cut in, feeling the way everyone in the room started to glare daggers at her because this was the fifth time in the last half an hour she had burst their bubble.

 

When Q turned to look at her, he was a picture-perfect professional. “Of course, M.” The second he turned with his back at her, his shoulders relaxed and he was almost pouring over the desk, as if Bond was right in front of him and they were staring at each other’s eyes, his voice sultry once more. “Bond, please back away while I work my magic and keep as still as possible. I don’t want to get anything on you.”

 

“ _I do so love it when you work your magic, Quartermaster. I would love it even more if you worked your magic one me.”_ M rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Nope, she was so not hearing this and neither was the rest of the MI6 or the Prime Minister. “ _I am afraid I am having quite a hard time like this._ ”

 

Q clicked his tongue and leaned over his work station even more - how the bloody hell were his feet touching the ground? Just how tall was he? She needed to check his medical records and maybe have a doctor make sure that he wasn’t a shape-shifting snake or something as ridiculous and supernatural as that. “Bond, I am pretty sure you have a hard time most of the time. But be patient; I will remove that collar from your neck as soon as we are done with this and only if you are a good boy.”

 

“ _I can be a very good boy, Q_ ,” James purred into his microphone and M found herself wishing that the man would have destroyed it by now since it would have spared her of this unwanted vocal sex show. “ _On the other hand, you are free to put anything one that is of your design as punishment if it turns out that I am lying_.”

 

Something hissed in the background and then a dull thud followed, Q running a hand through his hair. “Bond, five out of four of your words are complete lies and by now, I should have a lifetime subscription to a whip shop.”

 

How was this banter? No, how was this innuendo? Had they both hit their heads on their way to work this morning and they forgot what they were supposed to do? Was she really about to remind them _yet again_ that they were in the middle of a highly sensitive mission?

 

“ _I believe the shops you have in mind are called ‘Sex shops’. Or could it be that my young Quartermaster has yet to set foot in one? Do you want me to pop that cherry?”_ Apparently she was and apparently all the beings of higher power that existed in this plane and all the others hated her guts.

 

“For God’s sake, can you two focus on the very important mission? Or should I make this whole careless sabotaging easy and just call Montoya to let them know that he has an MI6 agent visiting his office?” Some of her underlings dared to make noises that only high school children did when some of their colleagues got into trouble and M promised herself to fine each and every one of them.

 

Q cleared his throat and sat properly at his workstation. “The toxic fumes should have dispersed by now, Bond, so it is safe to sit at the computer and actually touch it. I have also gained control over the collar around your neck and it shan’t shock you save from you saying something that irritates me and my fingers accidentally slip.” Well, almost thirty seconds of professionalism were better than nothing, she supposed.

 

“ _Tell me, Q, do your fingers slip naturally or do they need a bit of help from—ah!”_ James gasped suddenly, and M thought that someone one had slipped in unnoticed and had stabbed, injected him with something, or was strangling him until she saw Q’s huge grin. “ _With a few minor modifications, you could have hundreds of thousands customers paying for a mortgage to castle on a big, private island.”_

 

Q tilted his head to the right a little and drew a circle around the edge of hips mug, biting his lower lip. “Hoping to say that you were my first, Bond?”

 

“ _I already have the great honour of being your first, Q. Your first agent, that is. And let me assure you that I am envied by many for that._ ”

 

“And my first real migraine, if we are to be honest,” Q chimed in, finally taking a sip from the tea his most trusted underling brought him, frowning. “Oh, it’s cold.” He pouted a little which made him look like he belonged in the hallways of a university, not in a seat that was known for emotionally destroying all of its occupants.

 

“ _Cold? Q, what are you wearing?”_

 

“ **007!** ” She finally snapped, hitting her desk. “You did not just ask your _Quartermaster_ what he was wearing in the middle of a mission supervised by me and the bloody Prime Minister himself!”

 

“I was talking about my tea and most definitely not a lab coat,” Q said quickly like the rebellious brat he had turned into thanks to Bond.

 

“Do **not** encourage him, Quartermaster! And don’t think I won’t punish you just because you are a genius. You still answer to me,” she reminded him, starting to massage her temples.

 

As usual when it came to Bond, Q had an excuse all lined up and everything. “Just making sure that our agent couldn’t be distracted by anything while on this very important mission, M.”

 

“ _Yes, M. Q knows that I sometimes get distracted by the smallest of things, such as the clothes he’s wearing or not wearing and was quick to fix the problem_ ” James chimed in, protective of the man as always. _“So please do not pick on him for being a great Quartermaster_. _In fact, I daresay that he deserves a raise._ ”

 

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I am not ‘picking’ on anyone because I am not some kind of a bully. I am the head of one of the best British intelligence agencies and your bloody _boss_ and what I saw is law as long as you two are on my payroll.” She was also trying her very best to ensure that neither man would made a mistake that would cost one his life and the other his soul.

 

To her left, Eve cleared her throat and motioned subtly to the computer next to her on which the Prime Minister’s sour face was. Oh great, now the bloody bureaucrat got his fancy, silk underwear in a twist and she was probably going to be forced to leave the delinquent – aka James Bond – alone with the top student – Q – to further corrupt his once respectful and rule-abiding mind.

 

“ _I would like to talk with you in private,”_ the man said and really, M shouldn’t feel like she was the teacher being called in the head master’s office. “ _Right now_ ,” he added, impatience clear in his voice.

 

“It isn’t like I don’t have any confidence in my agents—”

 

“I’ll keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t get side-tracked,” Eve interrupted her, smiling kindly. And really, the woman had been making all sorts of weird cooing noises throughout the mission, so M found it really hard to believe her words. She would faster see her create more opportunities for the two goofballs to be completely unprofessional than stopping them.

 

“ _M, now,”_ the Prime Ministers hissed and M had no choice but to conform.

 

“You are to call me at the first sign of this mission starting to go tits up, understood?” Eve nodded really fast, her huge smile making M regret her decision even more.

 

Figures that MI6 and the world would fall because Bond and Q were horny for each other.

 

***

 

Eve was having a hard time not squealing for joy when she saw and heard how James and Q were over the coms. Q had a twinkle in his eyes that only appeared when he interacted with James, the agent he lovingly referred to as ‘his troublemaker’, and she was sure that James had that silly smile that only appeared when he was interacting with Q.

 

The first of the two that showed interest in the other had been James and Eve noticed that a week after the two had been formally introduced. To say that she went in overprotective mode in the bat of an eye was putting it lightly. She had cornered James and dragged him in a closet, waving a metal rod in his face as she threatened to break every bone in his body if he played with Q’s feeling who, at that time, she saw as a precious, innocent young man who needed to be protected from everything in the world that was corrupted, evil, and Bond - she would find out very quick that Q was a very good actor who loved to tease the world around him with kisses and hypnotizing dance moves.

 

“I am only rising up to the occasions he presents me with, Eve,” James had said, winking. “I am not really bothering him since if I were he’d pretty much erase me from existence, but you are more than welcome to skulk around in the shadows and see for yourself.”

 

She did just that and she fell in love with the idea of the two of them together. James acted like a smaller prick when Q was involved and Q did not hold back from pointing out when he was acting like even if he had his back turned to him and the deadly assassin was toying around with one of his dangerous inventions.

 

James also always brought Q things back from his missions and Q always gave him the best gadgets he had - or invited him to steal them, using a code he made up on the spot to tell him how to get into his branch after whatever new upgrades had been applied to the security system, which James understood right off the bad - and told him in a very subtle way to do his best and come back in one piece. And James knew how Q liked his tea and Q knew how to make James’ coffee and they both know what food to order for each other. And if you were still a ‘non-believer’, well then Eve was more than happy to present you with more evidence of why they belonged together.

 

Upon seeing Q dressed in an actual suit for the first time, James had took it upon himself to make him a proper one - “What you are currently wearing is an insult to suits and I am having a hard time not ripping it off of you and setting it on fire”. One day later, he waltzed in Q’s branch with a beautiful and very expensive suit that fitted the young man like a glove. And the word exchange the two had was pure gold and something she would never forget.

 

James finished butting up the suit for Q, brushing some invisible lint off of his shoulders. “There, now you don’t look like a pre-schooler wearing your father’s old and ugly suit.”

 

Q walked to one of the many security cameras that littered the ceiling of his branch and grabbed a pad so he could check himself out, grinning. “Instead, I look like I raided your closet and stole one of yours.”

 

“So you want to wear my clothes now, Q?” James breathed out, licking his lips at the mental image he had. “Well, that might be the only instant baggy clothes look good on you.”

 

M had cut in before Q could say something back and Eve was so disappointed to see that her new task forced her to eat her lunch at her desk, sure that she was missing a great banter/ innuendo session between the two.

 

“ _Is the big, bad–”_

 

“Bond,” Q said in a warning tone, already knowing what the other man was going for.

 

“ _She-wolf gone_?” James said instead, chuckling.

 

Q glanced back and Eve smirked, nodding. “It would seem that M has been called away for a short period, yes.” She saw him break out into a little smile and she sat back, happy that they were going to continue from where they had left off. “Why? Do you want to know in detail with what the young generation dresses?”

 

“ _And here was me thinking you were wearing your birthday suit because…_ ” There was a small sound in the background and James was seemingly cut off, everyone holding their breaths as they waited to see what was wrong.

 

“007?” Q asked, a little worried after about thirty seconds of complete radio silence, switching like mad between windows on his screen. “Bond?” He asked again, this time with a bit more authority.

 

“ _Fishing for your stick under this desk, Q_ ,” James grunted out and Q visibly relaxed. “ _You really need to make it bigger for me to see,_ ” the agent added after a few moments and a few of Q’s minions chocked on their teas or coffees.

 

Q rolled his eyes, holding his mug out behind him so someone could refill it with tea which would undoubtedly get cold again thanks to James distracting him. “That’s the standard size for them; I am not going to do make it bigger because you asked me, Bond. I will, however, go out of my way to suggest you either start drinking carrot juice or getting a pair of glasses. The latter might be the best course of action for someone your age.”

 

“ _Don’t think I’m too old to put you in my lap and give you a good spanking, you whippersnapper,_ ” James teased in an old man’s voice. “ _As for the carrot juice… Something tells me that at one point in your life you, my dear Quartermaster, should have been orange_.”

 

Q’s eyes visibly twitched. “You’re going to turn blue the next time you drop by my office, Bond,” he said slowly.

 

“ _Quartermaster, oh my Quartermaster, I always lose my breath when I see you_.” Eve covered her mouth because she didn’t trust herself to keep quiet without any help.

 

“Just really wished you stopped losing my gadgets when I don’t see you, Bond,” Q said, sighing.

 

“ _Not always my fault, especially when the standard size is…”_ James trailed off, Q huffing into his microphone. “ _Might I show you mine to get you to change your mind about what the proper size should be?”_

 

Q fake-gasped, almost spilling his tea when he brought his hand over his heart. “I can already imagine the size of your ancient stick, Bond. Can you do anything with it? Other than poke someone’s eye out, of course.” Something caught his eye in the corner of his screen and he interrupted Bond before he could say anything. “Bond, did you use those handcuffs like I told you to?” James clicked his tongue and Q rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Well, congratulation; you have seven uninvited guests making their way over to you, and I see more black vans pulling out in front of the building.”

 

“ _I might need private lessons to learn how to use those, Q_ ,” James purred. “ _But until them, as of this moment, I am a mere puppet at the end of your strings, my genius Puppet master_.”

 

The agent seldom referred to anything as his, especially if the object or human in question was even remotely connected to MI6. It was always 'the apartment I live in’ or 'the connection I am supposed to meet with. But Q was different. He considered him his and as such, he referred to Q as 'his Quartermaster’ or 'his genius’ or his whatever - and that made Eve root for them to become a thing even harder.

 

“ _Are you saying that I am too big, Q_?” Was to what Eve’s mind came back from that special place where she was attending the wedding between Quartermaster and agent.

 

“That is exactly what I am saying, Bond,” Q hissed, fingers flying over the keyboard as if he was playing the most complex piano song in existence. “Also, I find myself in the embarrassing position of having to remind you that puppets _never_ go against their master’s commands. Do I have to use your collar to get you to sit like I told you to? Because I am more than ready to personally taser you if it means saving your ass from bullets or from a greater shock that I have no doubt will incapacitate you.”

 

The thing about Q was that he did not have to raise his voice to get James to listen to him when he felt there really was no other alternative but his plan. All he had to do was start hissing a bit and lower his voice with just half a tone and James was as obedient as a puppy.

 

“ _No, Quartermaster_.”

 

Q threw his pen at the foolish minion who dared to use the whip app had on his soon to be useless phone. “Just the answer I wanted to hear, Bond,” Q muttered. “Now push the chair back in the corner of the office like I told you to do in the first place and whatever you do, do not touch the ground.”

 

The second the guards stepped into the office, Q pushed a button and their bodies all contorted in very painful looking positions, Eve wondering just _how_ Q had managed to turn the floor into an electric trap.

 

“ _It’s starting to smell like a BBQ in here, Q,_ ” James hummed. “ _Might I go home anytime soon?”_

 

Q slowly pushed a button, taking a sip from his tea. “Blasted, cold again,” he muttered and pushed his mug in the hands of the minion stuck with tea-duty for the day.

 

“ _I’m starting to really think you’re in your birthday suit at work and I can’t begin to tell you how irked I am for not seeing you in it.”_

 

“He is talking about his tea again,” M’s cold voice came from behind her and Eve flinched, apology frozen on her lips when she saw how angry the woman looked. “Quartermaster, does the agent really have time to have this type of conversation with you? Because from where I am standing, I see about a dozen armed guards heading straight for him and I doubt that the same trick will work twice.”

 

Q bit his lip, brows furrowed in worry. “A chopper also landed; just wonderful.” Q cleared his throat and shook his head, fingers flying on the keyboard. “Bond, vacate the office and head to the elevator. I got it stuck five floors below, but I will open the doors for you. Climb up one floor and then head to the service closet that’s three doors down on the right side. If these schematics are right—”

 

“ _I would hate for this to be the first time the schematics actually turned out not to be right_ ,” James breathed out, struggling to go up on the elevator’s cable.

 

“Then I’ll find another way out for you, don’t worry,” Q mumbled. “Now, as I was saying, if the schematics are right, you should find a garbage shoot large enough to fit you and twisted enough to get you down to the ground without damaging any of your equipment.”

 

“ _Heaven forbid that should happen. Okay, reached the second floor; mind opening the door for me?_ ”

 

R finally glanced up for her computer screen and shook her head, Q frowning. “Afraid I can’t do that without notifying the guards where you are. Best put those muscles you’re always flexing to good use and open it. Also, do be kind enough to let me when you are out of the shaft.”

 

James did as he was asked and Q shocked him before he finally unlocked the collar around his neck, everyone present in the room suddenly developing a cough that suspiciously sounded more like laughter. Even M’s face became just a tad more pleasant to look at after that.

 

“ _Q—”_

 

“Slip of the finger, Bond, honestly,” Q lied through his teeth. “Now down the rabbit hole you go and do be careful not to do anything stupid that will land you in the cattle class on your way back.”

 

“ _When have I ever?”_

 

“Do you want the list to be in alphabetic or chronological order?” Despite his dry tone, he was smiling honestly and Eve sighed in happiness, M shaking her head disapprovingly.

 

***

 

R was having a hard time not grinning like a maniac as she collected the money from everybody who had foolishly betted against her – she was also surprised that it had taken her two days to do that. You’d think they’d learn not to do that after the first five bets they lost, but nope; they all still thought their Quartermaster would finally be fed up with 007 and order him to act professional or at least cease flirting back with him – something which would never because they were both very much in love with each other.

 

“I’m starting to think that everything is rigged,” one of her victims grumbled as he forked over two hundred pounds.

 

“What’s rigged?” Q asked, wandering into the office with his arms full of fancy-looking bags. “R, tell me you didn’t make set up another betting pool on what sort of wounds Bond comes back with or on how many women he sleeps with.”

 

“Not this time, no.” Not the last time either, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that she was making a lot of money off of his flirting. “I was simply getting back a sum of money I had loaned him yesterday.”

 

Q glanced at the man, eyes narrowing when he saw him gulp and nod. “I hope you aren’t lying to me because I would hate to stick you in computer cleaning duty for the next six months.” Of course Q would triple the usual punishment if Bond was involved.

 

“I am not going to say that I would never, since we are both spies even if we are naught but simple boffins,” Q nodded in understanding, “however, there is no lie in my following statement: I did not make a betting pool on either of the two things you just mentioned.”

 

“Which means it involved something else,” Q deduced, clicking his tongue. “Luckily for you, I am too busy today to find the right phrasing.” He tightened his grip on the bags, lips twitching – a clear indication that Bond had just returned and that he hadn’t come empty handed.

 

He disappeared down the hall with a subtle skip in his step and a happy little tune in his hum that seemed to improve the mood of everyone he passed. He was behaving strangely as he had been this happy and content in the past when Bond had brought both his equipment and himself back in one piece. Something was up and R was hoping that her hunch was right.

 

“Would you care to make another bet? The ‘double or nothing’ type of bet,” she offered the man who was quick to shake his head. “Then would you care to join me on a little mission to see what has put our beloved Overlord in such a good mood?” The man nodded and off they went, sneaking around and hiding around corners and behind huge plants, drawing a large crowd after them when they explained in hushed whispers what they were doing.

 

Eve spotted them on her way back from wherever to the main offices. “What in Heaven’s name are you all doing?”

 

R hushed her and, even if Q was no longer in the hearing range, she pulled her in their hiding spot. “Do you know where Q’s heading?”

 

Eve arched one of her eyebrows, hands on her hips. “A department head doesn’t have to explain himself to his—”

 

R covered her mouth, quickly pulling it back when she saw the glare the other woman was giving her. “Sorry, but you got it all wrong. I, or rather _we_ , are curious because he is very happy today. Do you, perhaps, have an idea as to why he’s like this?”

 

“I might have something to do with the fact that he’s going home…Wait a minute.” She turned on her tablet and everyone huddled around her, trying to see what she was doing. “Oh my God, Bond is back and our biometrics show that he’s in the underground parking lot, where Q was heading.” She actually clapped her hands together, her tablet saved by one of the boffins.

 

“There is no way the Quartermaster would be that happy because of 007,” someone said and others nodded and muttered their agreement.

 

“Nonsense!” Another called out. “That is the only reason why he would be this happy.” More mutters of agreement followed by people snarling at each other because of their conflicting beliefs – at this point, R could open up a church around the two, call herself the high priestess alongside Eve and accept donations in the name of the Kind God of Technology Q or on behalf of Evil Man With A Gun And An Attitude Bond.

 

“The Quartermaster hates 007 and only puts up with his antics over the coms because he threatens his cats before going on a mission.” R had no idea on what planet that boffin lived because Q had brought his cats to work in the early days of their new branch to let them have a go at the rats and Bond had been more than happy to pet, feed, and play with those two beasts, even almost breaking another agent’s leg because the man had been close to stepping on the tail of one of the cats.

 

Insulted snorts and angry huffs. “007 and our Quartermaster were married in secret on that mission to Las Vegas eight months ago and those cats are their children. He would never—”

 

“That ring you claim you saw 007 give our Quartermaster was related to a mission,” someone said exasperated. “I personally placed that little trinket in our vaults as soon as the Quartermaster was done analysing it.”

 

Things were staring to get out of hand and R feared that she would be forced to call Q back and direct him to M’s office so he could discuss the proper punishments each and every person present in that hallway deserved. “How about we stop wasting time and continue to follow Q and see for ourselves what his relationship with Bond is?”

 

They all rounded the corner just in time to see the elevator doors close behind Q, M instantly frowning when she saw the crowed. “I don’t want to know,” she muttered, hands crossed over her chest. “But if this gets out of hand…” she trailed off, allowing for each of them to scare themselves with their own thoughts of what she might do. “And then I will hand you over to the Quartermaster. Understood?”

 

They all nodded in unison and M went on her way, shaking her head and muttering something about unruly children causing the world to fall – or something like that; R was already going down the stairs with Eve a step ahead of her and followed by everyone else.

 

Of course one of the boffins in the back of the mob – because, at this point, some of them were only a pitchfork and a torch away from being just that – just as R and Eve were stepping on the last step and they all came tumbling into the parking lot, stopping right in front of a hugging James and Q.

 

“It’s cannon!” Eve shouted on top of her lungs, high-fiving the nearest boffin who shared her passion for the two.

 

Q stepped away from James, hands on his hips. “I think working alongside spies has ruined your capability of understanding the meaning of a ‘private life’. Wouldn’t you agree, Bond?”

 

James grinned, and rested his hand on Q’s hip. “Yes, Quartermaster.” R was not liking were this was going and neither was Eve, whose smile had completely disappeared.

 

Q leaned against Bond and sneaked an arm around his neck, his smirk looking absolutely diabolical. “And, as their Quartermaster, it is my duty to remind them. Isn’t that right, Bond?”

 

“Quartermaster, far be it for me to tell a department head how to deal with his unruly underlings, but might I suggest forcing them to attend special classes?” James whispered, nuzzling Q’s ear. “Also might teach your second-in-command not to make bets on whether or not we’ll flirt while on a mission.”

 

Q hummed and everyone gulped. “What a positively spending idea, Bond. Colour me shocked at your ability to actually come up with one.” James clicked his tongue and Q lightly tapped the man’s pouty lips with his index finger. “My tablet, please.” James conjured it out of nowhere and presented it to Q. “Also, please stop those three that are way in the back from getting away? Thank you.”

 

James hand no problem picking the three people up by the back of their lab coats in one hand and bringing them back to Q. “A good thing neither of you are spies,” he teased them, patting the back of their heads rather hard before wrapping himself back around Q. “Are you done with their punishment, Quartermaster? The show starts in one hour and I know you so hate to miss the opening speech.”

 

“Just about ready,” he checked his watch and smiled, “ _darling_.” Eve audibly gasped, hands over her mouth. “I am off the clock, Miss Moneypenny, which means that we can start calling referring to each other our favourite unprofessional nicknames.”

 

“Right you are, _love_ ,” James chimed in and about half of the crowd aww-ed. “Also, since we are off the clock…” He held his hand out and waited for Q to close his tablet before slipping a ring on his finger.

 

“Ha! I knew it! I was right!” Someone shouted, whimpering when Bond turned to glare at them.

 

Q leaned up and pecked his nose, putting a chain with a ring around Bond’s neck – which was a really smart way of bestowing such a thing on an agent whose life might have been lost at the sight of a tan line around his ring finger. “Now, now, darling. I have already taken care of all of them, Miss Moneypenny included,” the woman groaned and started to try to reach her phone to see what he had done, “and you did say that we were going to be late.”

 

Winking in their general direction, James held the car’s door open for Q, whispering something in the man’s ear that earned him a playful tug of his tie. “I hope you all enjoy the little gift my darling husband has left for you with M,” he added in a way that made everyone shiver before slipping into the driver’s seat and driving away.

 

“Eve, in how much trouble are we?” R asked, rubbing her temples.

 

“You really don’t want to know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love <3


	14. Husband of the year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet sunaddicted asked for "Alec and James bickering about who gets to fake being Q's husband during an undercover mission and Q being sick if it"
> 
> Of course the muse for the fic did what it wanted and I ended up completely rewriting the story when I was just about done with it. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy :)

Normally, Q would have given an arm and a leg and even what little was left of soul in exchange for being in the centre of attention of two very handsome and well-versed in many areas, as would anyone else. But in this particular case, Q was feeling insulted and beyond annoyed.

 

“Because I am younger than you, it will be much more believable if I go with him,” agent Alec Trevelyan, codename 006, announced as he pulled Q to his chest. “Now let go of his arm and go get a widow to keep you company until we return.” Deadly with explosives and guns, one of the best hand-to-hand combat, decent with technology, horrendous when it came to returning any technology given to him by Q, and an expert in childish antics and in keeping a grudge.

 

His partner in crime, on the field and in bed, agent James Bond, codename 007, who was currently tugging on his other arm, was no more of an adult, even though he liked to dress in expensive suits and drive around in cars – and destroy them, mind you – that Q wouldn’t be able to afford even if he worked nonstop for seven lifetimes. “You are eleven months younger than me, Alec, and that doesn’t count.” Q found himself face-first in James’ chest now, glasses on top of his head.

 

Alec placed his hands on his shoulders and tried to rip him from James’ clutches, hissing. “It so does, doesn’t it, Q?”

 

Well, at least one of them remembered that he wasn’t just a piece of meat that only occasionally talked. “To be honest—”

 

“See?” James interrupted him and turned with his back to Alec, hugging him tighter. “He totally agrees with me! Now, run along and waste some more ammo in the shooting range while _we_ carry on this mission.”

 

“I’d rather he didn’t,” Q mumbled, sighing. “That department is also in the red thanks to you two. Actually, I don’t think there’s a single department in this entire agency that’s not in the red because of you two.”

 

Of course they both pretended like he hadn’t heard anything and continued their bickering, even having the galls to put him on top of a bloody table so they could fight for him. He was not a bloody trophy, God damn it. He was a human being with feelings, thoughts, and a voice, and he did not have to stand for any of this bullshit.

 

“Don’t bother to call me when you two grow up because I will be long dead when that happens.” He _almost_ made it to the door when they broke away from each other and attached themselves to his back, pushing their literally bloody faces up against the back of his brand new, grey suit. “You have no idea how much I hate you two right now.”

 

Alec sneaked his head under Q’s armpit and flashed him a smile. “Less than when James ran over your new bicycle when he was trying to recapture that Neo-SMERSH agent that escaped 005 just as he was checking him in medical.” The sad part was that he was still paying for that bicycle.

 

James pushed Alec’s head away and put Q’s arm around his neck, ending up with him in his lap. “And less than that time Alec was ended up using two of your laptops as shields against that BAST agent that accidentally crashed your mission with 008.” He had worked non-stop for twenty-three hours and sixteen minutes to recover all the files he had on those because he had the agent wipe-clean the computers he stole them from before returning to him.

 

“True, this is a drizzle compared to those hurricanes,” he grumbled, rearranging his hair and his glasses. “Now, if you two are done acting like two—” Alec threw a punch which James was more than happy to return and Q sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Apparently I actually wanted to say ‘carry on’.”

 

They were fighting about something they weren’t supposed to know about: who was going to play the role of his husband in his upcoming mission. How the bloody hell did they find out about it, Q wondered as he watched Alec get punched in the face at the same time he kicked James in the stomach.

 

“If you’re both in the Medical section, neither of you can come with me on this mission,” he drily pointed out and both men stopped mid-headbutt. “And as long as I have your attention—”

 

Actually, it seemed like they had each other’s attention because they were now furiously making out in front of him, and Q was thankful for the hot show, for the fact that they had stopped hurting each other over _nothing_ , and that they presented him with the perfect opportunity to sneak out of here and continue to work on his projects – maybe today will be that day he finally leaves work when he was supposed to.

 

“Q!” Both men shouted as they grabbed his arms to pull him between them – clearly today was not going to be his dream day. “Pick one of me already so Alec/James can go home and play on the PS4/rub one in our bedroom.” They said together again, restarting their tug-of-war with Q as their rope.

 

When his glasses fell to the ground, he decided that he had enough and he pulled himself free from their hold, quickly hoping on the table so he could use his legs to keep the two away from him. “I am not a bloody object, you buffoons! I am your bloody Quartermaster! What am I?”

 

“Our Quartermaster,” they both grumbled, not sounding quite convinced of what they were saying.

 

Q picked up a file and smacked both of them over their heads. “Correct and yet wrong.” Of course they stared confusedly at him, reminding him of the two large puppy dogs he had as a child who loved nothing more than to push him to the ground and lick his face. “I am also a human being, one who has little patience for your antics.” A total lie because he always permitted them more than he did the others for… his own private and unprofessional reasons.

 

“Whatever did we do to make you think we saw you as anything less?” James honestly asked and Q smacked him over the head again. Alec started to laugh, but stopped when he received the same punishment.

 

“I am starting to worry about both of your memories, seeing that you had me confused for some kind of a rope or toy not one minute ago.” He raised his shoe when James opened his mouth, lowering when they both took a step back. “I have heard quite enough out of you two to last me until your next mission which, coincidentally, will not be the one I am going on.”

 

Of course his harmless shoe wouldn’t keep them from revolting and he honestly doubted that an actual weapon would have made any difference. But at least they weren’t rubbing up against him or pulling on his arms anymore.

 

“You have to take on an agent to pretend to be your husband, Q,” James said, leaning his head towards Alec when it was his line.

 

“And after carefully going the files of every available double oh and normal agents,” aka Q was woken up at four in the morning because Alec decided _hacking_ was better than simply coming to him at a normal hour and asking him for permission to see said files, “we have reached the conclusion that only one of us is suited to play that part.”

 

It was damn hard to remain upset with them when they were acting so childishly out of concern for his safety. Hard, but not impossible. “All the other agents you snuffed without anyone’s approval act their own bloody age. You two, however…” He trailed off and held up five fingers. “Coincidentally, that is also the agent who I’ve chosen to be my husband.”

 

“But he’s a child/ 005 couldn’t protect and elephant from a bloody ant!” They both exploded and Q simply stuck his fingers in his ears and kicked the door open, quickly walking out of the office.

 

He had too much work to do and he was tired and his arms hurt because of their tugging and he had had enough of them. “I will not change my mind, nor will M. Understand? In two weeks, 005 and I will be husband and husband and if you dare set foot in my branch to bother me or R about this, I will unleash all of my untested defensive mechanisms on you.”

 

They looked like they wanted to argue, but his glare kept them quiet – a bloody miracle.

***

 

It was very unlike 005 to be late and Q was starting to worry, chewing on his lower lip as he ran a hand through his freshly blond dyed hair – the first time M had insisted on him getting a disguise. The man had been in perfect health the last time they talked and it was practically impossible for them to have been made already, so what had gone wrong?

 

Had he gotten in an accident? Unlikely since 005 was an excellent driver. Then might he have gotten stuck in traffic? It was three thirty in the morning; even in London traffic didn’t exist at that hour. Robbed? While truly a baby when he was compared to seasoned agents like Bond and Trevelyan, he was more than capable to fend off petty thieves. Sick? He would have called. Killed? The tracers Q implanted them with also tracked their vital status and they would have known if something bad had happened. So then, what could have happened?

 

He was distracted from his thoughts by the sight of the aforementioned troublemakers running over to him, Alec tripping James just as he was about to get to him. “Sorry, beloved, but traffic was horrid,” he said as he wrapped himself around him and dipped him back, pecking his lips and keeping his lips against his ear. “Change of plans, my intriguing looking Quartermaster. I am afraid that 005 has suddenly found himself tied up with something back at MI6.”

 

“Would that something be a rope?” He growled, pinching Alec’s neck as hard as he could.

 

Alec hissed and held on tighter to Q. “We’re supposed to act like two spouses who love each other, Quartermaster.”

 

“No, _005_ and I are supposed to act like that. I have no idea what you are supposed to do.” He took a deep breath to calm himself down, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But it’s too late to fix that, I suppose.”

 

Alec nodded, smiling. “Much too late, husband mine.” He pulled Q up and nuzzled his neck before grabbing his bags. “Now, we should hurry before we miss our flight and we wouldn’t want to ruin our first vacation as a couple since our honeymoon, right?”

 

“Perish the thought,” Q hissed, glancing at James who was following them with a silent determination. “Bond, do you know what the word ‘couple’ means?” James gave him a short nod, moving closer to them.

 

Alec moved his arm suddenly and hit James in the stomach, forced smile in place. “ _My_ husband is trying to tell you to get lost.” When he tried to pull his arm back, James caught it between his legs, his smile as unsettling as Alec’s. “James, let go.”

 

“I don’t think I will.” He jumped back, intending to make Alec fall, but the man freed himself just in time to avoid that and the two started to struggle. “You cheated, Alec. You tripped me, so now do the honest thing and you get lost.”

 

“All’s fair in love and missions, James,” Alec shot back, trying – and failing – to headbutt him. “I won the right to be Q’s husband for this mission, so go away already.”

 

Clearly something had happened in their happy paradise and they were now using him to prove a point. Great, just when he thought he couldn’t be more insulted, they found a way to prove him wrong. “Need I remind you that we’re sort of in the middle of a mission? A mission just for two agents who, unfortunately for all the parties involved, happen to be myself and Mister Trevelyan? A mission that will be ruined if my husband gets arrested?”

 

James sighed and released Alec’s head, taking a step back. “But he cheated, Q. How is that fair? If he hadn’t tripped me just then, I would have wrapped my arms around—”

 

“Happy to see that I am still a prize, Mister Bond,” Q said drily, brushing the jacket of a positively radiating Alec. “And technically, you _both_ cheated by tying 005 up, which is something both of you will pay for as soon as this mission is over.” He rolled his eyes when Alec draped his arm across his shoulder and kissed his neck, James frowning. “However, I will suggest that your punishment be couple’s therapy since it has become clear to me that you two need it.”

 

“Actually, we’re both very happy and our relationship is still very blessed,” James said happily and Alec smiled and nodded in agreement, which confused Q even more. “But it warms our hearts to see our darling Quartermaster worry for the human parts of the agents that constantly annoy him.”

 

If he was going to roll his eyes one more time, he was afraid they were really going to get stuck in the back of his head. “Well then I guess I will have to come up with another form of punishment for you two when we get back.” A possibility would be to assign James on at least four missions without an MI6 issued car and Alec on four missions where he would be forced to wear a suit non-stop and pretend to be a vegetarian who hates alcohol. Oh, better yet, have both of them be monks on different mountains where all the other monks were castrated and really old. Yes, he quite liked that idea.

 

“If you are opened to suggestions, might I–”

 

“I am not open for anything, Alec,” he was quick to interrupt now rubbing his temples. “Am I to assume that there are now three, completely different sets of marriage licences and three sets of wedding pictures because you two bullied R into doing them for you two as well?”

 

“I’d say we bribed her more than bullied her and even that seems like a stretch because she was on strangely on board with the idea even before I finished explaining it to her” James muttered. “But essentially, yes. 005 let slip all the files and pictures needed for this mission when we went out drinking last week after we found out that you had chosen him as your husband-”

 

“What you actually mean to say is that you got him drunk and tricked him into revealing that.” Something was really off because one of 005’s so called special abilities was his very high resistance to alcohol. “I will recommend him to go through the special training when we return,” in reality it was punishment for betraying him in such a way, “and both of you wipe those grins off of your faces because I couldn’t be more angry right now if I tried.” They had the decency to lower their heads. “Alec, go check in our bags while I make the necessary adjustments on the online version of our wedding certificate. And James?”

 

“Am I to be appointed as your bodyguard because your husband is an incredibly jealous man that’s obsessed to keep everyone away from you thus making your target even more interested in you because you would be the ultimate forbidden fruit?”

 

Q blinked, closing his mouth. “That’s…a surprisingly good idea, but no. But I will be sure to recommend you for this exact position on the next mission that’s similar to this one.” James looked like a kicked puppy, but Q refused to give in. “You are to return to base and untie 005 and report to M what you and Alec did.”

 

“Darling, I checked us in! And the nice flight-attendant said that they have chamomile tea on board, so you don’t need to worry about remaining clam through the duration of the flight,” Alec shouted from quite a huge distance, waving at him and doing pretty much everything in his power to call attention to the fact that the both of them were a couple, Q actually covering his face with his laptop as he slowly made his way to the overgrown child. “Your embarrassment makes you even more endearing to me, love.”

 

“Yeah, well your loudmouth makes me want to strangle you with your own tongue,” Q grumbled but leaned close to him. “And I hope you weren’t lying about that tea because flying is still one of the things I like to do the least.”

 

Alec brushed his lips against his temple, squeezing his shoulder. “I would never lie to you, beloved. And if the tea is not enough, you are more than welcomed to huddle close to me or even sit in my lap until we land.”

 

Q turned his head to look at him, their noses almost touching. “Honestly now: you know I am not that scared of flying since we’ve flown together on missions before. But I will not hold back from digging my nails in your arm if we run into turbulence patch or whatever those horrible things are called.”

 

The flight was uneventful as was the ride to the hotel and Alec played the perfect husband – he carried Q’s luggage, held his hand, helped him into the cab, played with his hair, hid them from all prying eyes when he pretended to kiss him, called him by all sorts of cute names that Q was too embarrassed to admit even to himself that he kind of liked, and made a lot of people jealous of their supposed relationship.

 

“Ah, Monsieur and Monsieur Trevelyan! Such a pleasure to have you in our hotel,” the concierge said after checking their IDs and reservation. “Your bodyguard has already checked the room beforehand and we have already set up a bed for him.”

 

“Excuse me, did you say bodyguard?” Q asked, eye twitching.

 

The concierge suddenly tensed. “Yes, Monsieur. A Monsieur James Bond came in not ten minutes ago and presented us with a work contract that was signed by your husband.” He pulled out a xeroxed copy and showed it to him, holding the piece of paper that Alec just signed for comparison. “We have also received an e-mail from your husband a few hours ago that informed us of Monsieur Bond’s arrival with a picture attached and everything.” He turned to look at Alec, fear evident in his eyes. “Have I been tricked, monsieur?”

 

More likely he had been tricked, bloody bastards. He was going to have them grounded in London for the next six months for this. “Ah, no, no. I was simply under the impression that Mister Bond wouldn’t join us for this trip.” He turned to glare at Alec, hissing. “Darling, you promised that it was going to be _just_ to two of us.”

 

Alec sent the poor man behind the counter an apologetic look before turning to look at Q, cupping his face. “I know I did, beloved, but I am still afraid that what happened in London and what almost happened in Austria all those months ago might happen here again.” He gave him a chaste peck on the lips and hugged him, resting his lips against his ear. “And, after pointing out all of that to your mother before we got to the airport, she was more than happy to agree with the idea. To keep everyone out of trouble, she said.”

 

Everything was code for the fact that they had talked with M over the possibility of the SPECTRE incident to happen again, maybe even suggesting that this was nothing more than a trap carefully laid out by the many members that were still at large, and it was decided that Q was too valuable to be left alone when he was being seduced into adultery – which made no sense because M knew what was actually going on and why was she punishing him like this? Hadn’t he been a good Quartermaster, ignoring all the incidents when he turned a blind eye to what Alec and Bond did?

 

“Still, I would have liked it if you would have told me about this change of plans at the airport,” he hissed between gritted teeth, hands fisted by his side.

 

Thinking like an actual husband who was trying to pacify his upset other-half, Alec nuzzled his cheek and brushed the hair out of his eyes, planting little kisses on his nose – and God damn it, it was actually working because Q relaxed without wanting, his hands no longer fists by his sides. “Well, you were already upset because I was late and I didn’t want to upset you more. Forgive me?” He gently pinched and rubbed his earlobe and fuck, Q would have to be careful not to let the agent do this to him when he was equipping him.

 

“As long as you don’t have any such unpleasant surprises in store for me,” Q hummed and closed his eyes, giving him a chaste kiss.

 

“Only pleasant ones, I assure you.” Alec whispered against his lips and suddenly turned and dipped him back, kissing him hungrily. It wasn’t the first time they did this – that had been when they were on a highly dangerous mission in the states and Alec had to kiss him to get rid of the murders who were following them – so Q kissed back by instinct although the little twirl Alec did with his tongue around his for the first time drew a real moan from him.

 

The concierge awkwardly cleared his throat to get their attention, holding out their keys. “We are so happy to see people in love checking into our hotel, Messieurs. If you find your stay pleasing, perhaps you will wish to return here for your second honeymoon, no?”

 

Alec was still looking him in the eyes, a playful smirk on his lips as he sneaked his arm under his legs and picked him up bridal style, Q hiding his face in his neck. “A wonderful idea, don’t you think so, love?”

 

“I will castrate you for this, Alec,” Q whispered lowly, biting his neck before speaking loud enough to be heard by the people around him. “Maybe our third and fourth if you managed to live that long.” The threat was there for everyone with ears to hear.

 

Alec grinned and started to walk towards the elevator, two bellhops following them with their luggage. “Dying between the sheets with you is the only way I would dare to go.” He didn’t even flinch when Q shoved his bony finger between his ribs. In fact he brought his lips up against his ear and sighed, making Q shiver. “And with James, of course.”

 

He was carried over the threshold and James was put in the awkward position to pay the bellboys for them – good; suffer and be slightly inconvenienced, Q thought – because they were supposedly busy forgetting anyone existed outside of the world created in their own eyes. But the second the door closed, Q jumped out of Alec’s arms and started pacing around.

 

“I cannot even begin to put into words just how furious I am with the two of you for _everything_ you have done.” He walked over to the bathroom to take out his contact lenses, the two men following him without being prompted. “Only you two can turn a low-risk mission to a high-risk one even before the mission started.” He leaned close against the mirror and stuck his tongue out, struggling not to poke out his eye. “Bloody things… Told M that we should have gone with my normal eye colour and glasses.”

 

James sighed and turned him around, sitting him on the edge of the tub. “And I told M that using our Quartermaster as bait for any sort of mission was a dumb idea and she _smiled_.” Q tried his best to keep looking in Bond’s eyes as to not give himself away. “Then Tanner joined the conversation out of nowhere and insisted that _you_ were the only person who could hack this man’s computer.” It was too hard for Q to keep eye contact so he glanced to the side. “Do try to look up when you look guilty.”

 

He did as he was told and realized the lens was gone only when the world became blurry. “I do not understand why you expect me to look guilty, Bond.” His eyes free of both lenses, Alec kneeled in front of him to wipe them and place his glasses on his nose. “Thank you, but I am still very upset with you two.”

 

Alec squeezed his knee, sharing with him one of his rare kind smiles. “We can both sort of live with that as long as you are safe and sound, Q. Also, I’d like to point out that although you can ignore him during this mission, the two of us are supposed to be madly in love with each other.”

 

“Just during the day and where people can see us, 006. I am free to stick you _both_ in the tub during the night and not draw any suspicion upon our _blessed_ marriage.”

 

The two men glanced at the tub in question and each pulled a face, Alec squeezing his knee again. “It does look very uncomfortable, Q, but surely you will find it in your heart not to do that?”

 

Q swatted his hand away and walked out of the bathroom starting to unpack and set up his computers. “Only because I have never been an arse to old men, which both of you are.” He dodged the roll of toilet paper thrown at his head, returning fire with one of his mouses which Alec had no trouble catching. “However, the bed is mine and I will not share with a couple that’s famous for how horny they are.”

 

“We would never rub up against you by accident, Q.” Somehow, hearing James say that in the tone he used, assured him even more that he shouldn’t share his bed with the two.

 

“I believe animals dry hump various objects and people by instinct, not by accident.” The second roll of toilet paper smacked him right in the face. “All you are doing right now is proving that you are no older than five.” He stashed the roll of paper under a pillow and when he turned back to his laptop, he found Alec siting in its place and with it shoved under his shirt. “Alec, I may be blind, but I am not blind enough not to see where my baby is. Give it back and I won’t strangle you in your sleep.”

 

The stubborn agent took his hands and started to play with them, seemingly unaware of how awkward Q felt. “I don’t doubt that you can make anyone start drooling after you at the first glance, Q, and trust me that both of us would prefer to lock you in this room and keep you all to ourselves,” and things became even more awkward especially since Bond sat down behind him and was now massaging his back, “but shouldn’t we go parade you in front of the scum and show him just how in love we are?”

 

“He is coming in tomorrow, so I am-AH!” He jumped out of his skin when Bond started pinching his ribs, barely managing to hold back a giggle. “That tickles, so please stop,” Bond moved his hand slightly higher and did something that made Q lose track of what he was saying. “What type of information are you trying to get out of me, Bond, because you know I usually don’t hide anything for you or Alec?”

 

“Simply trying to be helpful, Q. I know how tense you are after a flight.” He put his arms around his neck and turned it in a harmless way that made it crack and Q felt like he was floating. “And since your target is coming in tomorrow, why don’t the three of us enjoy ourselves? Maybe even by the side of the pool? You did bring your swimming trunks with you, right?”

 

Q hummed and nodded, letting Alec take his glasses and helping him take of his shirt before lying on his stomach to enjoy his massage even more. “And don’t any of you mock them either; the guy likes to go for the nerdy type, which I more than am.” He got goose bumps when Bond touched his skin and he shivered.

 

“Sorry; are my hands cold?” Bond asked softly, starting to rub his hands together.

 

“Just a bit,” Q muttered. “And you two are still not getting the bed if that is what you are after.”

 

He was startled when he heard Alec chuckle right next to him, even more when the man took his hand and started to play with it. “We don’t want the bed for ourselves, Q.”

 

“You have never been nice for the sake of being nice, Bond, so you will have to excuse me for being firmly convinced that you are up to no good,” Q grumbled as he turned his face away from Alec, fingers twitching in pleasure when the man cracked them for him. “I’ll be keeping an eye on the both of you.”

 

“Please do so,” Bond whispered in his ear before sitting on top of him and resuming his massage. “We never take ours off of you, so it’s only fitting that we would get the same treatment from you.”

 

He woke up dazed and confused, but feeling wonderful. For the first time in a lot of months, his back wasn’t hurting and after he remembered why, he told himself to make Bond his personal masseuse as an extra punishment when this mission was over - thought there was a voice way in the back of his head that whispered that it might not be a punishment.

 

“You woke up just in time for lunch, excellent” Alec said as he walked in and Q was so startled that he actually jumped out of the bed and grabbed the bedside lamp, intending to use it as a weapon. “Q, if someone dangerous tried to get in this bedroom, they’d have to get through me and James first. And trust that we’d be extra deadly since you’re in here.” He winked and put the lamp back on the table, starting to push Q towards the door. “Now come on before your tea and soup get cold.”

 

They fussed over him as he ate, pushing the bowls and plates closer to him, pulling up his sleeves – which, he realized weren’t his because he did not own a black silk pyjama top –carefully wiping his mouth, and brushing his dyed hair out of his eyes.

 

“Careful now; I might start to get used to this and expect to be treated like this from today on forward,” Q teased, tucking his legs under himself. He expected them to snort and say that this was a one-time thing, but they didn’t. Instead, they pulled their chairs closer to his and continued to eat.

 

He wanted to think that stranger things have happened, but he was never a good liar, not even to himself.

 

***

 

“Are you thinking of your husband and your bodyguard?” His supposed target asked him, poking his side.

 

Q barely held back from slapping his finger. “Illya, I have painted you as a Casanova and I doubt _the_ Casanova _poked_ the people he was interested in. At least not the way you just did,” he murmured, taking a sip of his wine.

 

The man chuckled, rubbing their shoulders together. “I am afraid your two agents would rip me to shreds if I’d even hint of poking you like that, Q.” Q snorted and the man tutted him, shaking his head. “For all the lovely things you see in codes and computers, you are as blind as a bat when it comes to humans.”

 

“Bats actually—” The man shoved a piece of bred dipped in caviar in his mouth to shut him up and Q kicked him under the table, catching a sudden movement in the corner of his eyes – yet, when he turned to look in the direction he thought he had seen the two agents, the table was empty.

 

“I believe Alec was the one who jumped on his feet and James was the one who used his brain and dragged him under before either one of us noticed anything,” Illya calmly explained.

 

“But I told them to—”

 

“Stay in the hotel and wait for you,” he finished for Q and chuckled. “But if the man or woman I loved was the metaphorical honey on a mission, I too would follow them from the shadows and react violently when they weren’t treated right.”

 

Q’s head was starting to hurt. “I don’t follow.”

 

Illya chuckled again and squeezed his shoulder. “Think of the way they had been acting around and towards you on this so called mission and you will.”

 

The first word that came to his mind was ‘strange’. Since the first day they had arrived, they constantly had to touch him in some way. Alec either had his arm around his waist or shoulders, or he made sure that their fingers were linked and James sat so close to him that his chest was constantly brushing against his back.

 

When they were at the pool, he was always between them – which he hadn’t seen as unusual then, but now that Illya asked him to really think about the past week, little things started to stand out. No waiter had served him; it was always either Alec or James that brought him whatever caught his eye in the menu. If a woman or a man winked in his general direction, the agents would ask if they were his target and as soon as Q shook his head, he was suddenly in Alec’s arms and in the pool. When he got out, the people that had shown interest in him were gone and James was pretending to read a book – he had been staring at the same page since they had arrived.

 

He wasn’t too surprised when the two knew what to order for him; after all, they were spies and he had met with them in various restaurants during numerous missions to either slip them new equipment or fresh information alongside new earwigs and they had seen him order the food he liked or heard him grumble about that particular place not really having what he liked.

 

Alec had taken to giving him chase kisses when they were in private and James seemed to have had developed a habit of brushing his lips against the back of his neck when he massaged him every night. Q never said anything about it and when he glanced at James, the man was smiling softly down at him.

 

They never complained about having to sleep on the sofa, although they happened to doze off in bed next to him. He was lucky to always wake up before them because he was always in an embarrassing position on top of them or doing something silly such as rubbing his face against their necks or one of his knees against their stomachs – though he did admit that it was strange, since he knew they tended to wake up at the mere drop of a pin and he always yawned and groaned before his brain started to work.

 

He reached the conclusion that he was lighter on his feet than he thought because in the two times he had accidentally walked in on them kissing and touching each other in a very intimate close, he managed to sneak back inside his room without being caught.

 

Wishing to avoid a third time – only because by now R and Eve had started to tease him about passing on a perfectly good peep show and because he wished to avoid getting sick from too many cold showers – he had offered them the bed once, saying that it was much too soft for his back, but that resulted in the agents calling the front desk and offering to pay for the buying of a new, firmer mattress.

 

When he admitted to what he had wanted to do for them, they chuckled and wrapped themselves around him, kissing his cheeks. “We don’t want the bed if it’s just the two of us,” explained James. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

Q had frowned, insulted once more. “As soon as I get the data from the man, you two are free to do whatever you want in this hotel. I’ll even play the heartbroken husband who walked in on his spouse and bodyguard if—”

 

Alec covered his mouth with his hand and kissed his forehead. “You don’t understand, but that’s okay. We still have time.”

 

That had left him so confused and neither of them had wished to explain what they were going on about even when he threatened them with sleeping in the bathtub again. They simply smiled, ruffled his hair and went to change.

 

And then there were the instances when Q had made contact with Illya and the two were practically foaming at the mouth. Alec had taken to kissing him until he got dizzy and James had even picked him up in his arms once and walked out of the museum with him like that, ignoring what Q was hissing in his ear about making ruining his mission.

 

“He will just want you more, the old bastard,” he had growled. “You are a tree and a snake away from being an actual forbidden fruit.”

 

“Clingier and more protective than usual,” he finally said, playing with his food. “But I am their Quartermaster, so it is only natural for them to want to protect me this much.” Illya flicked the back of his ear and this time Q saw James try to get to them, Alec diving and pulling him under a nearby table.

 

Illya chuckled and Q kicked him under the table. “Fine, as a favour to you, I will pretend that I did not see them. But they are getting closer to the table and I am afraid that if I lean closer to you and tilt your head so you couldn’t see our glasses, then their reactions will be…” He trailed off and started to do as he said, Q suddenly finding himself pressed up against James’ chest, Alec holding a very sharp knife to Illya’s hand.

 

“I suggest we torture him into giving us the information you need, Q,” snarled James.

 

“Yes, there is no reason why you should waste your time with this ancient lump of flesh that is so rotten that he was trying to slip something in your drink,” added Alec, making the huge mistake of looking away from Illya. In a blink of an eye, Alec was on the floor, the old man - retired star agent of a now defunct spy agency - holding the knife against his jugular and his right arm in a very awkward position.

 

“I am very disappointed in you two. I had to be very obvious in my intention to get you to act and it took you too long to get to me,” Illya scolded them, releasing Alec’s arm just to shove the side of his hand in James’ neck when the man rushed to attack. “Letting anger and desperation control your actions are also not good things to do when you are an agent.”

 

Q grabbed James’ arm to keep him from attacking again and tossed a crumpled napkin at Illya’s head when he saw the man getting ready to stomp on Alec’s chest to keep him from squirming. “I think they got the message, Illya, so you can stop being so violent to them.” He shook his head when James looked questioningly at him, shushing him. “Please help Alec get up and Alec, don’t try to attack him when he does that; he is a big fan of knocking people out via karate-chop over the back of their heads.”

 

“Q, you know perfectly well that the move is named–”

 

“I don’t care what’s called. All I care about is how you will not be applying it to either one of my agents, even if M would more than approve of it.” He let go of James’ arm and motioned Alec to him, checking to see if he was alright.

 

A waiter, flanked by two tall bouncers walked over to them and through awkward coughs and pauses, asked them to leave before they were forced to call the cops. Flanking Q, the two agents ordered Illya to walk ahead of them, keeping his hands where they could see them and the man did that only because Q sent him a pleading look.

 

Of course, he insisted on telling them the many ways he could disarm them and get to Q before they even realized what was happening, which only served to infuriate them and make them try to reach for the guns, only to have their hands trapped in Q’s shirt.

 

“You were supposed to be the level-headed one, Illya. After so many years with Solo, he has rubbed off on you and not in the good way,” Q breathed out, trying to get all of them to keep to the more populated area of the city just to be sure that they wouldn’t start fighting again.

 

Illya stopped walking and James and Alec moved to cover Q from him. “I guess he has,” he said slowly, smiling. “I do hope that, in some way, some of my own mannerisms have rubbed off on him. God knows he could have only benefited from that.” He turned to look at them, shaking his head when he saw them literally lifting Q up and taking a step back with him, eyes narrowed. “Can we please come clean already? I am afraid they’ll force me to use, well, force.”

 

His words rubbed the agents the wrong way and they held on tighter to him, almost hurting him at this point. “I do not know who you are, but I do not like the fact that you are implying that our Quartermaster has to come clean about something,” Alec snarled.

 

Of course, Illya ignored him in favour of trying to make eye contact with Q, obviously very amused by what was going on and the situation they found themselves in. “Don’t they teach MI6 agents to get their facts before jumping to conclusions?” He tutted, clasping his hands behind his back. “Q is the most loyal man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and I am not a bad guy. I am, just like you, a spy. Retired, supposedly, but with a very interesting hobby related to THRUSH.”

 

“The supposedly defunct terrorist agency, not the bird,” Q cleared it up for Alec and James, hesitating for a moment to rest his hands on their shoulders. “We should really talk in a more secure place.”

 

They still kept their iron grips on Q’s arms and their distance from Illya, although they were no longer reaching for their weapons, which was a sign of improvement. No one wanted to drive - well, Q offered, but helpful Illya revealed that he did not have a drivers licence and imminently, James and Alec started to fight over who would be his driving instructor.

 

“Alec, you had three accidents in the last month. I don’t ever want to see our Q in the hospital. So I will be teaching him how to drive.” Q was surprised that James hadn’t stuck his tongue out yet.

 

Alec, however, had no problem with doing that. “Your unofficial hobby is wrecking cars, James. You are the last person on this planet that could teach anyone how to drive a car more than once.”

 

This was not happening again. “None of you will! I am already getting lessons from Miss Moneypenny, thank you very much,” Q snapped, approximating where their nipples would be, grabbing them and starting to twist them. “What is wrong with you two? Why are you almost always fighting when it comes down to someone choosing just one of you? Are you two sure you are okay? Did anyone from MI6 started to drop hints that we have too many double oh agents, or what? Because that will never happen and if you give me their names, I will cripple them.”

 

He grew more frustrated with their silence and threw his hands in the air, intending to walk alongside Illya. That didn’t bode too well with the two agents and they pulled him back between them, nuzzling his temples.

 

Illya found this amusing and he openly laughed which was a rarity as the man tended to be very reserved and preferred not to make any loud noises that made him stand out. “Darling Q, it is good that you are the Quartermaster and not a field agent because you are clearly missing the obvious here. That or you are in denial about–”

 

“That is enough out of you,” James interrupted him, eyes narrowed. “And do not throw Q’s title so easily in a place where everyone could hear it.”

 

They eventually reached their hotel and an awkward elevator ride followed, Illya holding his hands up as he sat on the opposite site of it, James and Alec still being Q’s human shield/wall, flinching and reaching for their guns at the smallest of noises.

 

Once they were inside the room, Alec kicked the furniture to the walls and put a chair in the middle of it, Illya sitting casually down after talking off his jacket to show them that he did not have a gun. “Q, might I trouble you-”

 

“No, you might not,” James growled and pointed the gun at his head. “Now start talking about relevant things, before my finger becomes so itchy that I end up scratching it with the trigger.”

 

“You would make such a terrible mess if you did,” Illya said dryly, winking at Q as he face-palmed.

 

“You’re giving my Quartermaster a headache,” Alec grumbled and Q decided that he needed to ask M for funds for a time machine so he could go back and leave London with 005 a day ahead of schedule so this could never happen - although, since this was currently happening, it must mean that M never approved that or he failed building it. “And I am inclined to give you a headache for giving him one,” Alec added, cracking his knuckles.

 

“You’re _all_ giving me a headache.” He walked over to where the sofa was supposed to be and if it weren’t for James catching him would have fallen on his ass. “Alec, put the sofa back where it was because this is going to be a long explanation and I don’t plan on standing. And no, Illya will not use it as a shield or whatever worst case scenarios you two have in those heads of yours. I will also order tea for myself and for Illya.”

 

The victorious smile Illya flashed the two agents did not help the situation at all.

 

“He doesn’t really need all of his teeth for us to have this conversation, does he?” Alec whispered and Q elbowed him, pointing to the sofa.

 

Ten minutes later, a now barefooted Illya - because his agent’s paranoia had also gotten to him, so when the poor waiter tripped on something outside of their door and face-planted into the door, everybody though they were being attacked so they all took out their guns - was waiting for James and Alec to find the proper position around Q so he could start his story.

 

The young Illya would not have antagonized the two, but this one, the one was sure to start with the day he was born which would lead to a fist fight which would then lean to Q worrying over his unconscious terrors and that was the one thing he wanted to avoid the most. “We’re not on an actual mission and M knows this. My usual partner is 005-”

 

“Which I like more than these two, despite his connection to Solo,” Illya hummed.

 

“– and this is the only way I can get a decent vacation,” Q soldiered through, tossing a pillow at Illya’s head.

 

James glanced at Alec and they both frowned, Q focusing on his cup of tea when they turned to look at him. “This would explain the cheap flight seats, the cheap hotel, and the lack of any sort of gadgets,” James said slowly and Q nodded. “But if this is nothing more than a front for a really cheap vacation, who is he? And why did you trust 005 more than you trusted us, Q? We trust you with _everything_. You even know what we’re allergic to.”

 

Q worried his lip and felt horrible, James’ upset and betrayed voice guaranteed to give him nightmares for weeks to come - and he still didn’t dare to look up at either one of them, unsure he could really deal with the looks they were probably given him.

 

"This whole thing was my idea, actually,” Illya spoke up. “For all the power he has at the tips of his fingers, Q is struggling–”

 

Q coughed and shook his head. This was not something he wished the two agents to find out about.

 

Illya pulled a face but nodded. “Anyway, I made a deal with your M the day Q became R, offering her all the information I had on former foes and possible future ones if she allowed for this farce to happen, which she was more than happy to agree to. The old 009 – a close friend of myself as well as Solo’s – used to be Q’s chaperone before Solo’s godson, your current 005, took over. Though this is the first year that he had to meet me looking like this.”

 

James cupped his chin and tilted his head back, moving his head until he finally managed to make eye contact with him. “Q, is this really the only way you can afford an actual vacation?”

 

“It’s not an actual vacation,” he insisted, very nervous. “I never go over the budget agreed upon and Illya does provide us with reliable information that helps us more than you’d–”

 

James pushed his head against his chest, silencing him. “Really now, having to work to get a few days to yourself that aren’t in London? Thank you for not defecting or betraying us for others who might not give a damn about the world, but care about geniuses.” He kissed the top of his head and let out a long sigh, Q getting drunk on the smell of his aftershave.

 

Alec glued himself to Q’s back and proceeded to kiss his neck, rubbing his arms when he felt him shiver. “You should have told us about this a long time ago, Q. We would have kidnapped you and taken you on an actual vacation, where everyone would have taken care of you as if you were an actual god.”

 

“So, on a private island where it would have been just the three of you,” Illya cut in, easily putting the coffee table back in its place despite his old age and the bones that cracked and then putting the empty teacup on top of it. “Q, there is no way for you not to have caught on by now why they are acting the way they are.”

 

Q had a very soft spot for the two agents. Everybody knew about it, of course, because he always allowed them to get away with more than they should. He always got in trouble because he covered for them and he always went that extra mile for their missions even when it wasn’t needed. Obvious to all but them why Q was so accommodating when it came to them, and those same people liked to point out that they too were acting differently around him.

 

But Q dared not hope. The agents were odd and had strange tastes, but they only shared their beds with others, not their actual feelings. “Illya, you know best that in this field, assuming is deadly.”

 

“And yet one does not get too far away without assuming first,” Illya insisted, leaning over to tap Q’s nose and pulling it back quick enough to avoid getting it ripped or broken. “I am 82 and I am still faster than you. I just hope you are not fast in the one instance that being slow is more than wanted.”

 

Q’s eyes widened so much that his lenses actually fell out. “I am now more convinced than ever that you and Solo somehow switched bodies.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart skipping a beat when felt both James and Alec got up.

 

“That might have happened at one point in time. THRUSH was very…resourceful and quite inventive when it came to their plans.” Illya gently took his hand and the USB stick in it that allowed Q to see the world without getting shot at. “As always, I was very happy to see you again, Q. And I am very pleased to see that your two men managed to convince you to get a tan and put an actual smile on your face. ” He patted his head and maybe smiled an honest smile at him, Q wasn’t quite sure. “Hope to see the three of you in an actual vacation next year.”

 

“Well, that sounds like a goodbye if I ever heard one, so let me show you to the door.” Q really hoped that Alec hadn’t tried to dig his nails in Illya’s beck, but the grunt that followed alongside the two separate voices whispering cusses in Russian left little to the imagination.

 

“Don’t worry about them,” James whispered in his ear as he put his glasses on his nose. “I am sure that none of them would really harm each other. Alec is far too kind to hurt an old man who’s obviously important to you and Illya will let whatever he does slide because, and please correct me if I am wrong, Alec is also important to you.”

 

“All agents are important to me, Bond,” Q tried to say in a neutral voice, but his inability to maintain eye contact with Bond gave him away. “Might we pretend that I am not crushing on any of you two?”

 

James tutted, leading him towards the bedroom where all that remained to be packed were his precious laptops. “We might have, had we not the same problem as you, Q.” He leaned close and pecked his neck, caressing his face. “See, Alec and I had a disagreement on which one of us would be better suited to reveal our interest in you. He thinks me too much of a playboy and I consider him much too direct. In your opinion, which one should have done it?”

 

Q needed a second to collect his thoughts and James was even kind enough to close his mouth for him – after he nibbled on his lower lip, of course. “I am not quite sure, to be honest. I thought you were just being uncharacteristically good at playing your roles.”

 

He was startled when Alec huffed right behind him, saved for a second time today from falling on his ass by an arm wrapped around his middle. “See, James? Told you bluntness is the best in this case. But no, we _had_ to prove to him that we’d be good partners when he already knows that.”

 

Oh no, they weren’t seriously going to start again, were they?

 

“Did our track records slip your mind, Alec?” Oh God, they were. “Q, if we simply _told_ you that we were interested in an actual relationship, would you have believed us?”

 

“Well—”

 

“Q always knows when we’re lying and when we’re telling the truth,” Alec interrupted him, but this time Q smacked him upside the head and elbowed James in the stomach when he started to laugh.

 

“Would any of you horrible husbands care to enlighten me as to why almost all of our things are packed?” He asked, resting his hands on his hips.

 

James and Alec looked at each other and nodded. “We’re kidnapping you,” they said at the same time. “M has agreed to this since apparently you were _ordered_ by Medical to take at least three weeks off from work,” James continued, Alec nodding solemnly.

 

“You two move fast,” Q grumbled. “I am assuming that you are not taking me to back to London?”

 

Both men shook their heads, but that was where their collaboration stopped because Alec said one place and James another. And thus, Q was stuck listening to the two bickering, turned once again into the rope in their silly tug-of-war game. However, this time when he ended up plastered up against one of them, there was the added bonus of rushed kisses and wandering hands that found their way under his shirt and down his pants, which made it a lot harder to decide which idea he liked the best when they asked for his input.

 

“I am surprised you remembered that I have a mouth for something else rather than kissing,” he teased, falling on his back in the bed. “Still, do you really think it wise to argue with each other over where we should go instead of both you trying to convince me through any means necessary that your idea is the best?”

 

They looked at him for a moment and then grinned and Q really thought that he was about to get a nice strip show. Instead, they both pulled out their phones and started to talk about their preferred locations at the same time, still trying to abuse each other when they stopped to breathe.

 

“You two are really horrible husbands,” Q groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMERSH (СМЕРШ – acronym of 'death to spies' – Russian: Смерть шпионам [SMERt' SHpionam]) - was an umbrella organisation for three independent counter-intelligence agencies in the Red Army; dissolved in 4 May 1946
> 
> BAST (Brotherhood of Anarchy and Secret Terrorism) - evil organization that appears in one of the Bond novels
> 
> THRUSH - an evil organization in the television program The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
> 
> The Illya I used here is not the one from the 2015, but the one from the TV series from 1964. Since I was watching it while writing this, my muse insisted on making a cameo in here.


	15. Never a boring moment (with you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice anonymous asked for a civilian Q and an agent Bond. My brain cooked up this.
> 
> Please forgive all my mistakes and enjoy <3

Q loved reading sappy romance novels, but never really believed in them. He never believed that he would be saved from his boring life as an IT specialist for a Bank by a handsome knight in shining armour – he never actually read a book with that, but seeing that it was nearly impossible to find a romance novel for a gay man that wasn’t outright porn and directed at a female audience, he mostly read about damsels in distress and knights – and yet it sort of happened.

 

He had met James Bond in the most boring and cliché way possible: since being and IT specialist for a bank didn’t pay as much as one think it did and since he was reluctant to return to his hacking ways ever since he had almost been arrested by MI6 or MI5, he also fixed computers on his time off and Bond knocked on his door sometimes close to midnight on a Sunday, begging him to help him with his computer.

 

“I’ll pay you two thousand pounds in cash if manage to save every bit of information from this computer.” Okay, so maybe he hadn’t begged since James only begged when he was tied to the bed and Q was pleasuring himself just out of his reach, but what else could it be but begging when someone offers you that much money for such a simple task?

 

And it was love at first sight. “You’ll have to pay me that much not to sick my guard... pets on you and then slam my door in your face so hard that your pointy nose will leave and indentation in it.” Okay, so maybe not at first sight.

 

James pushed the laptop in his arms and then waltzed in his apartment like he owned it. “You hesitated when you mentioned your pets, so that means you have cats and cats are deadly only when they aren’t the house kind.” He picked up one of Q’s precious darlings and started petting it, seating himself on the sofa as if he was a king sitting on a throne. “Look, I hate to impose—”

 

“Could have fooled me,” Q grumbled, distracted from his annoyance by the fact that he was holding a very expensive laptop that he could only dream of.

 

“Well, I do,” James insisted. “But this is an emergency and I really need your help.” He took out his wallet and threw a wad of cash on the table. “Three thousand pounds is all I have.”

 

Q was shaking his hand a second later. “Mister Whatever-your-name-is—”

 

“Bond. James Bond. And I believe your name is—”

 

“If you call me anything but Q, I am chucking your laptop out the window and calling the cops,” Q warned and James grinned, nodding in understanding.

 

 “Well in that case, Mister Bond, you have yourself a deal.”

 

The project ended up taking the entire night and Q loved every second of it. The program that was blocking the access was absolutely amazing in its complexity and if Q made even the smallest mistake, he risked losing every bit of information. And that set off an alarm bell in his head just as he was one keystroke away from bypassing it and saving everything on the USB stick he had been provided with.

 

“You never said what you did for a living, Mister Bond,” he said carefully, glancing at James who had busied himself with scratching the purring kittens’ stomachs.

 

“James, please. And I am an executive representative for Universal Exports, that computer belonging to one of our former employees who it is believed to be selling inside information to one of our rivals,” James easily explained, yawning. “I’m in a rush to get all the files on it so I can present to our company lawyer in,” he checked his watch, “about five hours.”

 

“Won’t the court rule this information to be inadmissible due to the rather illegal way it was obtained?” Q asked, his fingers twitching. “And hey, I don’t want to end up in jail for my role in this.”

 

James chuckled and carefully put the cats on the sofa, walking over to the worried Q and ruffled his hair. “You don’t need to worry about that, Q. I am sure my company will settle this out of the actual court and no one is going to know you helped me.”

 

Q glared until the man backed away. “How do I know you’re not something like a double spy and you’re having me hack into this laptop and steal valuable information?” It was kind of late to think of this, but at least the thought crossed his mind _before_ he doomed his country. “I’ll die before I do that.”

 

James looked at him grimly and Q thought that the man was going to pull out a gun and shoot him between the eyes. But instead of killing him, James was laughing at him, flinching when the two cats he was showering in affection earlier sunk their claws in his side. “You were right to call them guardian pets, Q.”

 

“But am I right in calling you a double agent who wants to destroy the world?” Q asked, poking the man’s chest.

 

“You do realize you would have been dead by now if that was the case, right?” James pulled out his phone and accessed a website, presenting Q with one of his business cards. “Our IT guys aren’t the best when it comes to web design, but our company is so good at what it does that we even have contracts with the Royal House.”

 

Eyes narrowed, Q gave James back his phone and pulled his beaten down laptop, trying to verify his claims – even though it made sense that an enemy spy would have killed him by now and try his luck with one of the lesser hackers in London. “Your story checks out,” Q declared ten minutes later, rubbing his eyes. “And I also suggest hiring an actual web designer instead of forcing people who _fix_ computers to create your webpage.” He turned his attention back to the supercomputer and pressed ‘enter’, its screen showing the progress of the file transfer.

 

“That was kind of anticlimactic,” James murmured, taking the laptop from Q and allowing the skinnier man to push him towards the door. “I was expecting you to type furiously for at least five more minutes.”

 

Shrugging, Q held the door open for him. “And I was expecting to go to work properly rested for the first time this year which just goes to show you that things don’t always go the way we expect them to.”

 

“I don’t think that’s always a bad thing.”

 

Q kind of thought it was, but he changed his mind later that day when James suddenly appeared with a strong coffee at his work place when he had expected to never see him again. “I only drink black tea when I need an energy boost,” he said instead of a greeting, yawning. “And how did you know where I work? Should I worry that you’re a stalker?”

 

James snorted, dropping the coffee cup in a garbage can. “You have a very active imagination, Q. Also, your business cards were on the table alongside your access badge.” He smirked while Q looked away in embarrassment. “How about I treat you to a nice cup of tea and a good lunch as thanks for the great job you did with the laptop?”

 

“You paid me to do it, so there is no real reason for you do go out of your way with anything else to thank me for doing my job,” Q pointed out, checking his inbox for the millionth time since James walked in just so he wouldn’t have to look in his blue eyes.

 

“Okay then, how about you let me treat you to those things because I am hitting on you?” James said honestly and Q must have nodded because thirty minutes later they were laughing at one of his stupid anecdotes over a steaming cup of coffee and one of tea in a fancy restaurant, waiting for their foods to be served.

 

They shared their first two months later, in the rain – Q’s heart was beating so fast when that happened that he thought it would jump out of his chest – and he only really let James in his bed six months after they met. And when he saw James naked for the first time, he had dove to turn the lights off because he felt that his thin body would put him off. But that expectation wasn’t met and James spent a good hour covering every part of his body in kisses and praising his beauty, carrying him to the mirror in the morning to show him just how beautiful he was.

 

Q got too distracted by James’ body to pay attention to his when they did that, tracing a few cuts with shaky fingers – scars that he would later find out came from when his James had been in the navy – and James interpreted that move as disgust. “See? Compared to my beaten down body, you have that of a god,” he whispered in his ear, kissing it. “I won’t blame you if you consider my physique a turn-off—”

 

Clicking his tongue, Q flicked James’ nose, resting his hands on his hips. “I think I need to give you my glasses because there is nothing about the way you look that would make me...” His braveness was suddenly gone and he turned slightly red, trying to subtly cover himself because his body decided that it had to make the point for him. “And Gods usually look like you in sculptures and paintings. I would be a poor peasant who carefully cleaned them or who watched in amazement as his master created them.”

 

James hummed, dragging his hands slowly Q’s body, turning him around to look into the mirror again. “If you were the peasant and I was the god, I would have broken every rule to have you by my side every night for the rest of your life.” He cupped Q’s face and turned it to the side so he could better kiss and nibble on his neck. “I’d whisk you away from your unworthy village not even a second after seeing you for the first time.”

 

“James,” Q breathed out, gasping when the man wrapped his hand around his hardened member.

 

He got lost in pleasure as James carefully had him against the mirror that morning and now he had no issue with sending James when he was away on one of his long delegations videos in which he showed him how much he was missing him, or have Skype-sex with him – neither of them did sex-ting, Q finding that idea ridiculous and James saying upfront that he was the type to send long or detailed texts – and those two things were something that Q never thought he would ever do.

 

Other things he never thought he would do was travel around the world – in private planes or first class, getting distracted from his fear of flight by wandering hands or heated kisses – and spending his vacation time in five-star hotels on various tropical islands, or in beautiful cabins in the middle of mountains. But James loved to spoil and surprise him like that, admitting one night while they were sprawled out on a bear rug in front of the roaring fire while a snowstorm raged outside, satisfied and spent, that he was also doing this as a way of apologizing for suddenly disappearing every now and then because of his job.

 

That was when Q was reminded of his curiosity regarding James’ job because the man always had the best suit, he seemed to have a new car almost every other month, these romantic trips of theirs must have cost him and arm and a leg, he always had a new wound, he sometimes came back on the verge of depression, and the gifts he got from him were equally expensive. Q even felt ashamed with the gifts he gave James, but the man’s eyes always lit up and he always covered him in kisses when he was presented with something, assuring Q that he would love them even if they were made out of macaroni.

 

He rolled on top of James and slowly grinded against him, nibbling on his Adam’s apple. “What does an executive representative for an import-export company do exactly?”

 

It took a moment for James to give him an answer and Q wanted to believe it was because he was being distracted, but the fact that he had gently pushed him away and tapped his nose, avoiding looking him in the eyes, made it kind of hard to do that. “We travel around the world, trying to get more customers for our business or trying to resolve whatever problems we might have with our current ones.”

 

Q sighed and traced the newest bruise that James had come back with, the man grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “It looks like a very dangerous job, James,” he said weakly, starting to shake when his eyes landed on one that he had missed and that looked like a knife wound.

 

James kissed his eyes and then his forehead, hugging him tightly. “Because of my experience, my boss sends me to the more dangerous countries. I don’t always get bodyguards when I go to those places and accidents happen.”

 

“James, what if—”

 

“Q, don’t,” James pleaded, kissing him. “Don’t worry about these things and let’s enjoy this moment in which no one exists but us, okay?”

 

Q nodded and dropped the subject, but he couldn’t help thinking about it. Something was really off in what his lover was saying and for the first time in years, he hacked Universal Exports’ website the second James was gone on another one of his trips.

 

It had a high security protocol for what the company claimed to be and many of the documents that seemed okay at first glance turned out to be fakes when they were put under a metaphorical spyglass. The people who were presented as the CEO or VP did not exist in real life – at least not under the names on the website – and the ships they claimed to own and to use to do the actual import and export had long been scrapped.

 

Nibbling his thumb, Q was drowning in panic. Who was James? Was that even his real name? He did find a Bond family with a huge manor somewhere in Scotland and a tie to the royal family, but that couldn’t be his James. What was he? What did he do for a living? And was he going to come back in a wooden box from his next trip or would be put a bullet between his eyes when he least expected?

 

He screamed and threw his phone at James when the man snuck in their apartment under the cover of night, quickly apologizing to Q before pushing the countless bags of gifts in his arms and explaining that he had only wanted to surprise him.

 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Q hissed, clutching his chest as he breathed in a paper bag. “I thought you were here to kill me.”

 

James turned serious in the blink of an eye, checking every room in the house and to see if the windows were properly closed, looking in the closet, under the bed, and all the while he did that, he was holding his hand over his own chest. “Were you approached by anyone suspicious? Did you have the sensation that you were being followed?” James asked him, pushing his face against his chest as he did something on his phone.

 

Q pushed him away, annoyed and even more scared than before because those where not normal questions. “No, nothing like that,” he said between greeted teeth. “I got scared because you broke into my apartment into the middle of the bloody night.” James jiggled his keys in front of Q, earning himself a slap over the shoulder. “You were struggling to find the bloody hole that I thought you were...” He trailed off and sighed, rubbing his temples. “I am going bed.”

 

“Q—”

 

“Goodnight,” he interrupted James before the man could talk his way back on his good side, slamming the bedroom door shut to make it more than clear to his possibly deadly lover that he was not welcomed there that night.

 

This was actually their first fight and Q spend the rest of the night twisting and turning in the big bed they had bought together, finding it too cold and too empty, James’ smell that had helped him fall asleep against his will – but not in the chloroform horrifying kind of way – choosing that exact same night to completely disappear from the sheets.

 

Moring came and Q crawled out of the room, tripping on James’ slumped body next to the door and for a second, he suffered another heart-attack, thinking that the man had died for whatever strange reason, only for his fears to be calmed down with kisses and whispered sweet nothings and promises of never to anger or upset him.

 

And Q fell for them and hugged James tightly and they slowly got reacquainted with their bodies and touches, curling in on each other and falling asleep to the sounds of their heart beats and breathing a few hours later.

 

James continued to apologize to Q in his way for the following two weeks, revisiting the man’s favourite museums without his usual mock complaining, always waking him up with his favourite food and tea and Q forgave him because he loved him, but he also plotted and saved as much money as it was possible so he could follow James in secret on his next trip.

 

Fifteen days later, James was telling him between hungry kisses and wandering hands that he was going in Moscow because their affiliates were not respecting their contracts. “I’ll be back before you know it and after that, I’ll convince my boss to give me two more weeks off which we will spend in my family home in Scotland,” James promised and Q sighed in agreement only because he was so close to finding out what the man was really doing.

 

But he was honest in his attempts to keep James in bed by his side a few hours before the man’s flight was supposed to take off – Q having booked a flight that left five minutes after James’, under a fake name, and after bugging his phone with both a tracking device and a listening one – because he was afraid of the truth.

 

“As much as I hate leaving you like this, love, I have no choice.” He ruffled Q’s head and pulled him in a deep kiss, holding back from grinding against him because the suit he had on was already pretty tight. “But I’ll be all yours once I get back.”

 

Pouting and groaning, Q let the man leave, quickly pulling on his baggy clothes and his hand luggage from under the bed and jumping into a cab after giving the man a ten minute start. He checked the man’s flight and noticed that the one under his name was suddenly cancelled, but that a private one suddenly appeared in its place on which a Mister Sterling Richard was supposed to be taking.

 

Checking that man’s credentials, Q was shocked to find out that it was, in fact, none other than his lover, James. But it wasn’t just a new name that the man had. According to the file Q was reading, he also had a wife and two children – his panic attack stopping before it could start only because the names he found proved to be fictitious after a proper search – and that he supposedly was a lord who owed a few oil fields somewhere in Saudi Arabia.

 

Q wanted to cry and it wasn’t because he was stuck in the cattle class in an airplane that shook so hard that he swore it was being held together by lots of duct tape and without his lover by his side to distract him from everything.

 

When the plane finally landed, all Q wanted to do was crawl in his hotel room and die, but he couldn’t because James was on the move, passing the humble hotel he said that he would staying and checking in the most expensive one. Q had no money for it, of course, but it was easy to hack in their system and write himself down as a new employee.

 

Careful not to let James see him, Q sat in a corner with a silver tray and watched his heart get crushed into a million pieces, burned, and then pissed on when his supposedly faithful lover left the dining room that turned into an illegal casino with a very beautiful woman by his side, chuckling as she whispered something in his ear and she pinched his ass.

 

He struggled to finish his shift without bursting into tears just because he didn’t want to be alone right there and then and because he was trying to detach himself from his feelings of love towards the lying and cheating bastard who was having an affair in the penthouse above him.

 

By the time his supposed shift ended, Q was no longer able to bite back his sobs and hiccups, tears freely rolling down his cheeks. He dragged himself to the service elevator, alone because no one knew him there and they all thought him strange, and he regretted his decision to check up on James. He still had no idea what he worked as, if he was against the world or for it, but he couldn’t care less about that right now if he were paid. All he knew was that James was not faithful and that was more than enough.

 

When the doors opened, someone bumped into him hard enough to push him on the ground and he felt too tired to try and get up. His grand plan was to sit there and be trampled, hoping that his thoughts and sadness would disappear, but the person seemed to have other plans because they pulled him up to his feet and gave him a good, strong shake.

 

“Q? What are you doing here? Why are you crying? Did they kidnap you?” James asked desperately, glancing behind him before pushing squishing Q against his side and rushing to leave the hotel through the backdoor. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll have their—”

 

“Love?” Q said slowly, the fog that had settled over his mind lifting and giving way to pure anger. “Love?” He spat the word as he shoved James away. “Did you call that... that.... that _hussy_ that?”

 

James snorted – against his better judgement – pulling Q back in his arms, carefully wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Q, stop acting silly. You’re my only lo—”

 

Q slapped him. “How dare you say that I am acting silly when I saw you with my own two eyes leaving the bloody casino with someone who wasn’t me,” he choked on a sob and slapped James’ hands away. “Don’t you dare touch me after you touched her,” he shouted, turning away from James and bumping into someone who quickly wrapped their arms around him.

 

“This is not the way I thought we’d meet, Q,” the strange woman said softly, tightening her grip to keep him still. “Don’t do anything stupid now.”

 

“Eve, _you_ don’t do anything stupid,” James growled, easily taking Q away from her and hiding the sobbing man in his jacket. “Can we consider this useless mission over now?”

 

“Double oh—Bond, I mean _Richard_ , that is not something to discuss now. And it was anything but useless, you pestilence,” the woman said in a tone that managed to be a mix between a hiss and a bark, clearing her throat as she turned her attention to the shocked Q. “Now let me take him off your hands so you can go tie whatever lose ends this meeting might have.”

 

Q felt her arms on his shoulders, but James turned with her back to her and he would swear that he hissed. “No one is taking him off my hands and unless Alec was overpowered by his own bloody lover who defected for him, I think my job here is done. The transmission was completed and for once, no bullets were exchanged.”

 

“Bond, the field is no place to have a domestic. Have you gone insane?” She asked, tapping her phone and tablet. “Bond—”

 

“Is that even your real name?” Q asked weakly, tilting his head back to look up at him. “Are you a spy? Was I just a game for you? A cover story or something? Did I do—” Q gasped, turning away from James. “You had me fix or hack into your laptops when we were together.”

 

James was shaking his head, rushing to grab Q’s hands. “I swear that you were not a cover story, Q. Yes, I am a spy,” the woman groaned, but James ignored her and pushed her back inside the hotel. “And yes _some_ of those laptops belonged to other people, but I work for MI6 and they were bad people and you helped put them away before they could harm anyone even more than they already did.”  

 

“You’re a... And I...” Q felt himself become dizzy and he leaned against James’ chest without meaning to. “And now you’re going to kill me,” he added in a whisper, shaking violently. “I loved you while you constantly cheated on me now you’re going to kill me.” There were so many things that Q wanted to see and do, but his blasted heart full of love that James broke and his foolish mind, numbed by countless romance books, decided to turn into the nails in his coffin. “I should have gone with my first instinct that night and called the cops.”

 

Carefully, James took off his askew glasses and put them on top of his head, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “I did not cheat on you—”

 

“Not to butt in, but maybe you should start with the part in which he thinks you want to kill him,” the woman called from inside the hotel and James kicked the door, hugging Q to his chest.

 

“I am taking one ridiculous notion at a time, Eve. And since he started with me cheating on him, that’s the one that I am going to explain first,” he all but shouted and walked towards an Aston Martin – a car that Q was seeing for the first  time – and sat him in it, kneeling in front of him. “I never cheated on you, Q. When we because a couple, I stopped take honey-pot missions,” he explained slowly and Q glared at him, hating him for making him feel stupid.

 

“What the bloody hell are you talking about, bastard?” The hiccup that followed made his angry voice sound more pathetic than anything. “Just put a bullet through my head already. You don’t have to pretend that our fake relationship meant anything to a cheating worm like you.”

 

James ran his hand down his face, startled when Q’s glasses slid down. “I believe these are—” Q snatched them from his hand and tried to crawl out of the car through the driver’s seat, but James grabbed his arm, barely holding back from straddling him to keep him still. “A honey-pot mission is when an agent uses sex to get someone to defect over to their side.” He grabbed Q’s hands when the man tried to cover his ears, kissing his forehead. “But I stopped doing them, love, because I couldn’t do that to you.”

 

“You’re a spy! You lie for a living, so why should I believe you?” Q asked, wanting nothing more than to scream and slap the man until his hurt went away. “I should have called the cops back then—”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

 

“I shouldn’t have accepted your invitation to lunch that day,” Q continued after trying to head-butt James into shutting up – but all that earned him was another kiss on the forehead and a chuckle.

 

“I am glad you did,” James whispered. “And I am glad you let me drag you to that movie you hated but I liked and that you dragged me to your favourite museum and tried to make me just a tiny bit smarter.” Q regretted all those things because those things made James endearing to him and made him fall for him. “I am glad it rained that day and I am glad your umbrella broke and I am more than glad that you let me cook for you and that you gave me your keys and that your cats like me and that you love me because I love you too.”

 

“I _loved_ you and you don’t—”

 

“Yes I do,” James growled. “I love you so much that this was supposed to be my last mission because the thought of coming back to you in a box,” Q gasped without meaning to and James squeezed his hands, kissing his knuckles, “terrified me. I also didn’t sleep with that woman because she’s my best friend’s future wife. Then again, he said the same about the last one and she tried to strangle him with her tights,” he added as an afterthought, sighing. “I planned on telling you about my job.”     

 

Q snorted. “That’s an obvious lie.”

 

James nodded. “But I really didn’t cheat on you and I’m really working for the MI6. In fact, I am their best field agent.”

 

“ _So feel free to weep for our country and the world, civilian who managed to find out things he shouldn’t have and also who easily tracked down our agent,”_ a disembodied voice suddenly said and James was quick to hit the glove compartment with his fist, revealing it to be an incorporated computer. “ _A pleasure to see you as well, 007. And it’s also an honour as well as a pleasure to finally meet the one responsible for making you, well, responsible.”_

James covered the screen with his back, sitting really awkward in the car. “Don’t make eye-contact with her, Q. She’ll either turn you into a frog or a statue.” He waited for a moment to see if he managed to get a smile out of Q, the woman also remaining quiet, sighing when all he was hearing was occasional hiccups. “Q, if I told you from the start that I was a spy and that I needed you to hack in that computer because we needed to know what an enemy organization was up to, you would have thought me mad. Not to mention the fact that it would have put you in danger.”

 

Q heard the woman on the screen sigh and grumble something under her breath. “ _He’s in danger by simply associating with you, 007. And that was your main argument in front of the board when you asked for a security detail for when you were gone on a mission.”_

“You had me followed?” Q snapped, frowning. He had that feeling once or twice, but he never noticed anyone behind him and it never crossed his mind to hack in London’s CCTV and double check.

 

“For your own protection, love,” James quickly explained, caressing his face. “Don’t get scared, but your guards discovered a ring of robbers who were planning on kidnapping you and then using you to rob the bank you work at.”

 

Q wasn’t sure if his head was pulsating and hurting like it was about to explode because he had cried or because he had just found out he was almost kidnapped. At least James seemed to have caught on because he was gently massaging his temples while the woman from before was holding out a bottle of cold water to him. “Thank you, miss, and I could have lived just fine without knowing that, James.”

 

“James here doesn’t have the bad habit of thinking before he speaks. Or before he acts. Or before anything, really,” the woman said, chuckling. “But he is honest and he really did not cheat on you with the other agent or with anyone else. He just had to take her up to his room and then deal with the men that followed her while the other agent was tasked with whisking her out of the hotel through the back door.”

 

 _“Have the both of you forgotten that a spy is not supposed to reveal anything to anyone? Not even when you are being tortured?”_ the disembodied voice snapped. “ _He already knows more than he should have and he has enough consequences to suffer for hacking in our systems.”_

“You won’t take any actions against him,” James said before Q could even properly process the woman’s words. “Not his fault that our IT branch can’t create a proper security protocol if a bank IT worker can get passed them. Have them suffer the consequences and leave my Q out of it.”

 

“ _That’s impossible and you know it, especially since he’s the same one who hacked our systems five years ago.”_ Oh God, this wasn’t happening. “ _We’ve been searching for him ever since and now that we found him and that you pretty much revealed to him important information, we can’t let him slip through our fingers.”_

 

Q’s first instinct was to run and he would have been halfway to the airport if it wasn’t for the fact that James was leaning on him, arms wrapped around his legs. “I swear that I didn’t know you did that, Q. And I also swear that I won’t let anyone do anything bad to you. They’ll have to go through me first.”

 

Even if he was upset with him and even if he wanted to refuse to ever believe a single word that came out of his lips, the conviction in James’ blue eyes made it impossible for Q to not believe him and trust him fully. “You’re still moving out of my apartment when we get back home and I never want to see you outside of whatever court this voice of yours will force me to face.”

 

***

 

James had foolishly thought that by the time they got back home, Q would have a change of heart. But he didn’t and nothing was forgiven. His lover watched him coldly – or as coldly as he could, his green eyes filled with sadness and betrayal more than hate – as he packed his things and walked out of the room whenever he tried to have a conversation with him.

 

Adding insult to injury, Q finally managed to pinpoint his security detail – which had been upgraded to unofficial wardens that were also tasked with making sure that he didn’t disappear from London – and acted nice towards them, offering them something warm to drink on cold days or something cold if the temperatures were abnormally high.

 

The men even delivered James the box of things he had conveniently forgotten in Q’s apartment because he planned on using that excuse to drop in on him every now and then to try and patch things up. So when he saw one of Q’s guards with the box and an apologetic smile at his door, he wanted to snap his neck and sneak back in Q’s apartment to hide the things there.

 

“I think Q befriended them, so if you do anything to hurt them, he will never speak to you ever again,” Eve pointed out as she stirred her tea. “So act you age for once, release the man’s hand before you break it, and think of a new plan to get your Q back.”

 

Releasing the man and kicking the door shut, James dumped the box behind his lone sofa before slumping in it. One month had passed since Q found out about him and he had already tried everything short of hiring a band of mariachi to play under Q’s window – which wouldn’t really do anything because Q’s apartment was on the tenth floor and the man preferred classical music.

 

He had even resorted to bringing him flowers and candy with which he was promptly hit over the head with, Q underlining the fact that he wasn’t a woman and that he refused to be treated like a honey-pot mission.

 

“No, no, you are anything but that, Q,” James insisted, almost on his knees. “Just give me a chance to—”

 

“A chance to lie?” Q interrupted him, snorting. “Look, I am pretty much screwed at this point, but I won’t betray anyone and I will pay my dues since I do have a moral compass.” He hit James over the head again with what was left of the flowers before slamming the door shut in his face and threatening to call the cops if he didn’t leave him alone.

 

He also tried sending him love letters, but the day after he did that, he was almost drowned in countless spam mail. He was hit with spam when he tried to send him a text and an e-mail and the Major’s branch was still trying to find a way to unsubscribe him from every place that assaulted him with spam at every hour of the day and in languages that his phone didn’t recognize.

 

“That was the last ace I had up my sleeve, Eve,” he admitted dejectedly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Almost three years of relationship ruined by my bloody duty, as usual.”

 

Eve hummed, patting his back. “Not quite as usual, James. This is the longest relationship you ever had and you honestly did your damned best to keep it going, he’s alive, he’s unharmed, and he’s still on our side.” This was one of the few times in which he was happy that the woman was right. “A bit more grovelling should do the trick, as long as you don’t cross the line and end up being a stalker. And yes, acting like a spy is considered being a stalker for civilians.”

 

“But I miss him,” James grumbled, ditching the glass in favour of drinking directly from the bottle. “The bed is too cold, I miss those two terrors that loved to sleep on my suits, this place is too depressing, I spend the first ten minutes of the day calling to him and then panicking because his supposed side of the bed is cold, and the food is too bland—”

 

“You were the one who did the cooking because the last time he tried to surprise you with breakfast in bed, he almost burned down his apartment,” Eve casually pointed out, looking in her phone. “Or did you forget that M ordered you into her office because she thought you were responsible for the missing explosive from the Major’s branch, taking the fire as definitive proof of that?”

 

James shivered, remembering how long that day had been and how stressed and upset Q was – because he had failed to pleasantly surprise him and that because they now had to spend money on refurbishing the kitchen – when he was finally allowed to return home after the fire department proved that the fire was caused by food and after Alec came clean that he had been the agent with sticky fingers.

 

“It doesn’t taste the same if I’m making it just for me,” he grumbled, dropping the empty bottle on the floor. “Say, Eve, could you sneak me in on his trial?”

 

The woman scrunched up her face and rolled her eyes, but she did as he asked her one month later and Q’s face lit up and he clearly breathed out a sigh in relief when he saw him. But when James smiled back and winked at him, Q huffed, crossed his arms over his chest and focused on the judge – who was M, as the trial was not one in the real sense of the word.

 

Not that Q didn’t know that, since Alec had been more than happy to pass along that little bit of important information on behalf of James as well as assure him that the man would not let her boss imprison him or do anything bad to him.

 

And it seemed that Q had another ally in Major Boothroyd, the old man speaking on his behalf and praising his work. This almost cost Q his work freedom, as M thought it would be for the best if she forced him to work for them for the next five years of his life.

 

“M, he has helped us in the past when he was asked,” James intervened, ignoring the way M was glaring at him. “You can have him work as a consultant and let him have whatever job he wants.” He took a deep breath, getting ready to continue his rant, but Q silenced him by running to him and squeezing his arm – a dirty move since he was ready to do anything as long as Q touched him, his skin warming up instantly.

 

“Given the fact that the last time he hacked us all those years ago he was considerate enough to leave behind some pointers to increase our security,” M started, “and he also proved that he can outsmart our, sadly, best agent and the other two agents that were supposed to keep an eye on him—”

 

“You can’t be thinking of making him a field agent, M,” James interrupted her, once again pushing Q to his chest and trying to close his jacket around him as if that would magically make him disappear and get M to forget about his existence – and he made a mental note that Q wrapped his arms around his chest instead of trying to claw his way out. “He hates flying, he only has very colourful clothes that make him an easy target, and I go insane if I see even the impression of a possible bruise on him.”

 

“007, are you threatening this court?” M asked slowly, acting like this was the first time James had ever done this.

 

“I am not threatening you, M.” He drummed his fingers down Q’s spine, smiling down at him. “I am simply doing my duty and informing you that if anything happens to my love because of you or this agency, I’ll burn the world.”

 

M was massaging her temples, shaking her head. “I am not foolish enough to make a civilian a spy, 007. However,” she added quickly when she saw the man getting ready to leave, “he will work for us as a consultant for the next two years and be paid only a quarter of the usual fee. The alternative is jail, 007, so try to use your brain before you say anything else right now.”

 

“I have no problem with that,” Q said as he freed himself from James’ jacket, rearranging his hair and glasses. “I will work on as a consultant and do my best to aid your agency in whatever way that I can.”

 

M grinned, glared at James and then dismissed everyone, the Major taking Q away before James could have a chance to discuss anything with him. But James decided to do his best to be a patient man and calmly waited for him to get out of the boffin branch.

 

He waited for so long that he actually fell asleep and when he felt someone nudge him awake, since he recognized the hand that was shaking his foot, he tried to roll to his side erroneously thinking that he was in bed with his beloved Q and fell on the ground, hitting his head – something that he decided should happen more often because Q was carefully checking him over, trying to see if he had a contusion on not.

 

“You say that you’re a field agent and then you go and do this,” Q gently scolded him as he dragging him towards what he was sure was Medical when in fact it was the Mess Hall. “No wonder you came back full of bruises and cuts.”

 

“But a miracle I came back alive.” James tried to joke, regretting the instant he saw how big Q’s eyes have gotten. He cupped Q’s chin, smiling when the man closed his eyes and leaned in his touch, knowing without words that the man had missed him as much as he had. “You have to understand that I couldn’t reveal to you what I was and know that I did my best to return to you unharmed and alive, Q.” He brushed his thumb against Q’s lower lip and moved closer to him, their lips brushing against each other, legs entwined that it was a miracle that they weren’t on the ground yet. “I am honest when I say that I didn’t sleep with anyone else besides you and I did intend to leave MI6 for a calm life with you.”

 

A peck, then another, and then Q pouted and pulled James into a real kiss, the agent easily finding his way into the closet that no one used for anything but what he was planning on doing with Q. He almost pushed Q’s briefs down when the man stopped him, eyes narrowed so he could see in clear without his glasses that were now resting on the self against which Q wouldn’t be pushed up against as James took him over and over again.

 

“Despite what’s about to happen, I haven’t forgiven you fully,” he breathed out, tilting his head back to give James more room, biting his lower lip to keep himself from moaning. “You’re going to... Ah... Work really hard for my full forgiveness,” he struggled to say, happy to cover James’ face in kisses.

 

“I’ll work as hard as you want me, love,” James breathed out, stopping to fully look at Q. “I missed you and now that you know everything about me, I’ll never lie to you about anything except maybe about just how wounded I am.”

 

Q frowned and flicked James’ nose. “You’re sleeping on the sofa for that,” he announced, starting to rearrange his clothes.

 

“Will I be sleeping in the sofa in _our_ apartment?” James tried, full of hope and Q slowly nodded, yelping when the man easily picked him up bridal style and almost kicked the closet’s door off its hinges, strolling down MI6’s hallways as if he had just won the lottery. “Can I convince you to sleep next to me on that sofa?”

 

“Don’t push it, James. A make-out session and your keys back are enough for today,” Q chided before wrapping his arms around his neck and resting his head on his chest. “But the heating might be broke, so I might cuddle with you on the sofa.”

 

The heating wasn’t broken, but they still fell asleep cuddled on the sofa, Q’s cats deciding to use James as their bed – and that because they had missed him almost as much as Q had, his lover was quick to assure him, pushing his cold feet against him


	16. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sweet anonymous asked for a Q hated by everyone that ends in fluff and smut. Failed on the smut part, sorry.

The life of a Quartermaster was not an easy one by default, but it was made infinitely harder when everyone that worked directly with him, hated him. And he wasn’t exaggerating in saying that they hated him because they made sure to tell him that every time they had a meeting for which they were all late on purpose. On top of that, not a single soul in his own department could even so much as tolerate him and they always sneered at him and scoffed when he gave them instructions or orders. They always second-guessed his decisions and were more than ready to actually allow an agent to die just because they didn’t think he knew what he was doing.

 

“You killed M,” his right hand hissed at him, eyes narrowed in disgust and anger. “How do we know that you’re not going to kill anyone else with your stupidity?”

 

“That was unavoidable—”

 

“Except it was,” the man would interrupt him, spitting at his feet – and Q counted himself lucky that the man didn’t go for his face, not that there wasn’t a day in which he didn’t have to change his shirt because of how many of his underlings just dumped things on his pants or shirt because he breathed wrong around them. “For once, if you wouldn’t have unleashed Silva’s Trojan, M would have still been alive! And then you trusted James bloody Bond’s plan.”

 

This happened to him on a daily basis, getting scolded by his own underlings for something that really wasn’t his fault. But would anyone believe him when he said that? Would anyone from his team stop and listen to his explanation of how, in order to find out more about Spectre, M had ordered him to allow the man’s virus to enter their own servers while a program he had created hacked back into theirs?

 

The answer to all of those questions was no, of course. And Q didn’t know why he was still hoping that they were sensible adults with common sense, but he did and hoped they would one day wake up and realize the error of their ways – still, he wasn’t exactly holding his breath for that to happen.

 

However, he did hold back from reporting the abuse to HR and the new M, but he wanted to gain their trust and prove himself to his own team because if he wasn’t able to do as much as that, than they were right in calling him unworthy to be a Quartermaster and the agents were right to tease him about his age and inexperience.

 

Speaking of the agents, because they were spies – damned good ones even – they all noticed that something was very off in the boffin department. They were worried, but the way they expressed their worry was less than helpful and more hurtful.

 

“Are your minions revolting because you revoked their tea privileges?” Alec Trevelyan would ask loudly, pushing away all the plastic garbage from Q’s desk – and again, Q was thankful they didn’t decide to waste food on his torture or use other things that were more disgusting. “Or do you need someone to put them back in their place?” He’d ask in a sudden serious voice. “I can be the adult that fights off your bullies for you.”  

 

“You’re just imagining things,” Q easily lied through his teeth without daring to look at the people around him, already feeling their icy daggers in his back. “Might I suggest you start writing since you have such an overactive imagination?”

 

Alec would scoff at him, eyes narrowed so much they might have been closed. “Quartermaster, if you’re in trouble—”

 

“006, I need you to sign that you received the possibly faulty equipment,” R stepped in when he thought the agent was too close to getting Q to admit that he was being bullied and that he needed help.

 

“Funny how you always say that,” Alec said slowly, glancing at Q who found the floor much more interesting than anything else in the room. “I never had any of his inventions not working,” the agent would add, squeezing Q’s shoulder in a reassuring way. “And I’ll actually try to bring at least one thing back to prove that.”

 

“As a man of since, I will still dare to say that miracles happen every now and then,” R sing snag, referring to Q’s inventions working and not to Alec bringing back anything in one piece.

 

Then there were the times when 009 saw him drenched in coffee and/or tea, making Q want to run away and hide in a closet – but didn’t because he had a duty to do. “Did you stay up way pass your bedtime again and you fell asleep while drinking your tea from what has to be a Sippy cup?”

 

This had happened so many times that Q already had a whole speech prepared. “I am currently trying to develop a special kind of coffee and tea maker, and it malfunctioned.”

 

“You said that the last time I saw you like this,” 009 would point out.

 

“Well, you know how much of a klutz the Quartermaster is,” R cut in, slapping Q’s back hard enough to send his glasses flying off his face. “And his inventions never work right off the bat; it takes him months to even get a simple pen working if you’re not here to help him. I am frankly surprised that he didn’t kill any of us by accident yet. Well, not counting M, that is.”

 

The other agents were no less forgiving in their jokes, but the one that hurt him the most with his words was 007. Bond was always counting spots and asking him if he wasn’t up past his bedtime and if he was sure that he wouldn’t get into trouble for staying out too long to play with the adults. Q would do his best not to show the agent just how deep he had cut and was quick to come back with a retort of his own which had something to do with the other’s age, desperately wishing to be praised and adored by him, or at least tolerated because of his embarrassingly huge crush on him.

 

He tried to hint at his feelings, always forgiving Bond for his inability to bring back things in one piece and always going up against Accounting and even his own department, the cruel boffins mocking him for his tastes in men – they never said anything about him liking _men_ , which was a welcomed breather as Q had gone through enough for his sexual preference in his college and high school years.

 

And Bond’s response was confusing, to say the least. The man slept with people left and right, even introducing the one woman that lasted two weeks outside of a mission to him when they bumped in a market – and Q was still recovering from the shock that Bond actually stepped into normal markets without bursting into flames – but was always quick to shot down and scare off the only person that had shown interest in Q at work. Worst still, the man had been relocated in another part of England after a particularly nasty word exchange between him and Bond and Q was once again alone and wounded in a tank full of hungry sharks.

 

“Where’s that annoying fly that always buzzed around you?” Bond had asked a few days after the man had been transferred. “Don’t tell me that he got tired of—”

 

“He didn’t get tired of counting my spots,” Q interrupted him, hissing. “For whatever reason, he is no longer with the main division of MI6; happy?”

 

“I wanted to say ‘distracting you’ because I am the only one who should be allowed to count those spots of yours.” He leaned closer, grinning. “Tell me, Quartermaster, is your—” Q slammed the desk as he got up and stormed out of his department, James trailing after him until he got to the elevator. “I’ll keep in mind to make age-appropriate jokes in the future and to answer your earlier question, yes, I am very happy that that fly is gone,” he said honestly, winking at Q just as the doors closed.  

 

When he returned from his lunch, Q found everyone eating cake and other sweets, which he realized were for him when he found a card on which Bond had scribbled ‘ _Better luck next time, spotted one’_.

 

And that was the confusing thing about the man because even though he teased – he refused to use the word ‘mock’ even though it slipped in his mind every now and then – he always brought him things. Some were expensive, others while decently prised, but all of them were either delicious or useful and Q wondered if maybe a psychiatrist would consider Bond’s actions as a strange way of mental torture

 

The other agents brought him boxes of tea every now and then – which he rarely got to drink because his tormentors got to them first – mute apologizes for their words towards him. Well, he _hoped_ that was the case, although he doubted that more and more whenever he saw the way they looked at him and the careful way they touched the tools of destruction he gave them, as if they were afraid they might suddenly explode in their hands if they held it in a certain way.

 

Where they trying to bribe him to keep him from killing them? Did they really think he would actually do that?

 

It finally got too much for him on the day he had to suit up three double oh agents one after another and convince his department that the update for the servers was necessary. By the time lunch rolled around, he was trembling and tears were already spilling from his eyes and, not wanting to give them any form of satisfaction, he took his phone and bolted to the nearby park, hiding like a child behind some bushes so he could cry in peace.

 

Of course, luck refused to give him a break and in the middle of his gross sobbing and promises to quit if they didn’t stop, someone placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “So everyone was right and your department is full of pricks that pick on you.” And that someone had to be the man he had a bloody crush on as if he was in high school, which made Q want to cry even harder and try to run away. “No, no, we’re staying here until you feel better and your face isn’t puffy because we don’t want them to see that they’re close to winning,” the man said, pushing a bottle of cold water to his lips.

 

“Please leave me alone,” Q managed to say between sobs and hiccups, trying to turn his head away from the bottle. “I don’t want to hear you say anything about my complexion or age because I’ve had enough of that to last me for five lifetimes.”

 

“I did not understand a single word you said, but I am going to assume that you asked me to leave, which won’t happen,” Bond said patiently and cupped the back of his neck, forcing the water down his throat. “You’re dehydrating yourself and you’re going to have a huge headache after this if you don’t drink water.”

 

The man took his hand away when he felt Q starting to drink out of his own free will, pulling out a napkin from his pocket and carefully wiped his face. He also pushed a little brown bag in his arms that was full of pastries that Q liked when the tears finally stopped.

 

“How did you know I liked this?” Q asked in a scratchy voice after a few minutes of nothing but dry hiccups and silent rubs on the back. “And what do you want from me?” He added before Bond could answer, tears welling up in his eyes again.

 

The agent pulled him in a tight hug, shocking Q. “I want you to stop crying and to not be miserable,” he whispered in his ear, pulling him in his lap and managing to almost fully hide him in his jacket. “As for how I know that you liked those sugar bombs...” He trailed off and moved them until their noses were touching, smiling a little – an honest smile, Q realized with a bigger shock. “One, I am a spy and two, I saw you a few times walking out of the bakery with a skip in your step and a huge bag. All I had to do was ask the salesperson what the cute man with wild, brown hair and sad green eyes hidden behind stylish hipster glasses usually buys.”

 

“I am a 32-year old man,” who was crying in the bushes just fifteen minutes ago, but that was not the point right now, “and it isn’t fitting for you to call me cute.”

 

007 chuckled, rubbing their noses together – and Q thanked all the gods in all the religions that the man had made him blow his nose. “I was afraid that if I call you beautiful, you’d accuse me of trying to get in your pants and shocking me.” He started to massage Q’s forehead, trying to keep him from frowning. “I am not being kind to you because I want you in my bed, which I do, but because I also consider you my friend and I am worried about you.”

 

Q tried to kiss him then, but Bond turned his head away and dodged it. “You said—”

 

“You’re confused, hurt, and probably afraid that if you don’t latch on to me being attracted to you, I’d start being an actual bastard towards you just like your underlings,” Bond explained carefully, pushing the hair off of Q’s forehead and brushing his lips against it. “You’re not a mission.”

 

The agent was partially right, but Q also wanted him. He wanted to be under him and have his thoughts and loneliness screwed out of his mind. He wanted to forget himself and the world every time the agent touched him, even if it was just for a few hours. And he was sure that he wasn’t the only one who dreamt of that happening, especially since the mocking and teasing increased tenfold whenever the agent was there, his underlings clearly going out of their way to denigrate him in front of Bond and make the man question if he should really trust Q with his life.

 

“Make me a mission,” Q wheezed out, clutching Bonds’ shirt tightly. “Make me a mission so I know for sure you’ll never hesitate when I tell you to do something.”

 

“Did I ever do that?” Bond asked instead, cupping Q’s chin. “Did I ever linger in a doorway or a shaft, or asked you why you wanted me to do something that wasn’t on the mission’s specks?” Q shook his head slowly and looked away, embarrassed. “Then allow me not to turn you into a mission and respect you, okay? Let me earn my way into your heart, soul, and maybe bed.”

 

He wanted to tell him that the man had done that the second their first mission ended with M dead, the agent coming over to him and silently taking him for everything he had done and for risking his job to follow his plan. They had also shared a tight hug then, initiated by Bond who let out a shaky breath right before pulling Q to a bar in which both of them drank until morning and the cars sent by Eve to take them home came.

 

But he didn’t. “Make me your mission,” he pleaded instead and James sighed, tapping his forehead.

 

“How about I make you forget this in another way?” He offered, carefully getting up with Q, arm tightly wrapped around his middle just in case his legs were weak. “Our museum has a new exhibit that I am sure you’re going to love.”

 

“Did I miss a memo on a mission or something?” Q asked confusedly, allowing Bond to pull him along without putting up any form of fight. “When did we buy a museum and why would we do that? Is anyone bringing weapons or bombs in our country via works of art or are trying to cripple an organization that’s getting most of its funds from smuggling art lost during World War II?”

 

Bond snorted and shook his head, giving Q the bottle of water. “I’ll make sure Mallory consults with you the next time we have a mission like this, but right now I call it our museum because that’s where we first met.” He wiped the water that dripped off of Q’s chin with his hand and Q really wished he’d use his tongue to do that. “And I know for a fact that I was the only one who was introduced to you like that, so that makes it ours even more.”

 

“My head hurts,” Q said suddenly when his heart started to beat so fast that he was afraid it was going to jump out of his chest, flinching when Bond pushed another bottle of cold water against it. “And we met like that because it was an emergency…” He trailed off, letting out a shaky breath. “I can’t go to the museum because they’ll get me fired.”

 

“They won’t,” Bond assured him in a growl, holding on tighter to him. “I’ll make sure of that and Mallory has already agreed to give you an entire week off effective immediately as it seems, and get this, you have been working constantly for three months.”

 

Q slouched some more, trying to become small to the point of being invisible. “I wanted to make sure that what I gave you agents didn’t have any unforeseen glitches and I can’t do that from home.” He heard Bond take a sudden sharp breath and he grabbed on to his arm. “They’re not bitter enough to sabotage what I work on, Bond—”

 

“Call me James, please.”

 

Q might have blushed but his face was still red and hot from all his crying, so if he did it went unnoticed. “James,” he said carefully, “I stayed over the weekends out of my own free will and unbeknownst to anyone to make sure that they aren’t right in calling me useless and incapable of anything, so don’t say that they _made_ me do that.”

 

Bond – or rather James now – sighed. “But they did because those are not your thoughts, but their words. I met a confident, cocky young man in that museum and then their bitterness got to you, but I understand that you are not trained to resist psychological torture and don’t bother to defend them because we both know that I speak the truth.” He opened the side door of his Aston Martin and helped Q get in, buckling the seatbelt for him. “But this is not something we need to worry about right now. Now we have to get to our painting and just relax, okay?”

 

Q nodded, clutching his head to stop it from spinning which prompted James to look worriedly at him, squeezing his knee. “I’m fine,” Q said, voice barely a whisper. “Don’t even mention Medical right now. They won’t do anything more than give me more water and calcium or magnesium.”

 

Of course they stopped at a pharmacy before going to the museum, James terrorizing the poor woman with all sort of questions about each and every variation of the earlier mentioned vitamins of whatever, the line behind them getting bigger and people angrier until Q finally snapped at him and told him that he was going to go back to work even if he was locked out of his own bloody office if he doesn’t stop.

 

“We’ll just take what you think it best because you went to a special school for this while I have an internet connection and a smartphone,” James said with a mix of sarcastic and sullen in his voice and then clutched the small bag with anger as he tried to hold himself back when he heard someone mutter something derogatory about ‘people like them’.

 

The museum was all packed except for the room they met in for the first time and both of them sat silently on the rather uncomfortable chair, not really looking at the painting. After thirty minutes or so, James moved closer to Q, brushing their shoulders together, and the younger man took that as an invitation to rest his head against him.

 

He had almost dozed off when James broke the silence. “When I realized that you were my Quartermaster, I thought that M had lost her mind for _forcing_ a child to take on that heavy mantle.” He rested his finger against Q’s lips to keep him silent. “Yes, I know you are not a child and that you look younger than you really are, but my point still stands: I considered you too young to have that responsibility and then you proved me wrong.”

 

“And me without an app to record this historical event,” Q joked, making to bite James’ finger – of course the agent moved fast and he bit down on air. “But where are you going with this confession? Because I know you and you are honest only when you’re up to something.”

 

“I’d say that I am hurt if that wasn’t the truth,” James said, grinning. “Why not request an entire new department?”

 

Q sighed, shaking his head. “Because they are good at their jobs, James, and MI6 would be crippled until we find new people to train to take their places.”

 

Silence fell between them once more after that and they stayed there a few more minutes, James driving Q to a nice little restaurant before taking him back home. The unasked question of how James knew where Q lived without asking for direction or turning on the GPS, but the agent preferred to ignore it.

 

James pushed an envelope in Q’s hands. “Eve dropped by the restaurant when you were in the bathroom and gave me this on behalf of everyone that has a brain.” He waited for Q to open the envelope but the man was just staring dumbly at him. “I know you hate planes, so I had Eve look around for the best train—”

 

“Good night, Bond,” Q said as he put the envelope back in James’ jacket, quickly closing the door. 

 

***

 

A scorned woman’s fury was nothing compared to James’ right now. If he could – or rather if he was allowed – he would have cut the tongues of each person that had addressed Q even so much as a sneer, make them eat them and then pull out their teeth. And then break the fingers that held the cups that poured hot tea and coffee over his Q and make them crawl on the ground before him and beg for forgiveness and mercy, neither of which would be granted.

 

As if reading his mind, Mallory had insisted on sending Tanner and Eve with him to keep him from exploding after he had locked all the other agents, regular and double oh, in the shooting range – because, even though Q was hated by his department for whatever reason or pure jealousy, everyone else loved him, the silly jokes he once made, and his genius and now they regretted teasing him and they all promised to put his tormentors in their place.

 

But their presence did little to stop James when he saw R lounging in the Quartermaster’s office, his legs thrown over the man’s desk, the dirt from his shoes ruining the blueprints that Q must have spent days on end slaving over. He teleported in there, thrusting his hand in the shocked man’s neck and threw him against a wall, eyes glistering with clear murder intent.

 

“Now I might be old,” he snarled and squeezed the neck harder, “but I am pretty sure that it is still considered rude to sit like that at a desk that is not yours. People have been fired for less and you have no idea how tempted I am to have something else be fired right now.”

 

By the time Eve and Tanner managed to pull James away from the now crying man, R had turned a light shade of blue. But James fought to get back towards him and he only really stopped when he was injected with a sedative and dragged over to medical, where the poor soul that was his unofficial doctor was stuck with trying to pull out from his side the needle that had snapped in two.

 

“I must congratulate you on your muscle mass, what since it is still firm at your age,” the doctor mocked him, slapping his bleeding side before slapping a simple band aid over it. “But I am very disappointed that, despite your age, you are as reckless as a horny teenager whose bird has been ogled at for too long.”

 

James struggled to remained angry, shaking his head and rubbing his face, deciding in the haze induced by the tranquilizers – and he was pretty sure that they were the kind you used on horses – that it wasn’t going to be amusing if he held his brows downwards with his thumbs. “That bird,” he slurred, “was pissing his eyes out in a bush.” That came out cruder than he would have wanted it, but maybe it was for the best because the doctor looked like he was regretting putting a stop to his rage. “They poured hot things on him and their words made him forget what a bloody weekend is.”

 

He wanted to add that the bird in question was currently in his own studio apartment, stubbornly refusing to pack his bags and go on the vacation around Europe by fancy train that was going to be covered entirely by MI6 because he was afraid that the people who were supposed to help him would make him lose his job and maybe even cause the death of a few people without meaning to. He also wanted to add that Q looked at him as if he expected him to stab him in the back any moment since he wasn’t ‘putting out’ or rather because James had turned him down and his self-esteem was so low that he didn’t seem to be able to comprehend what ‘friend’ was anymore – even though James _was_ interested.

 

But the drug was too powerful and it knocked him out, waking up to Alec poking his side with what appeared to be the barrel of a sniper riffle. “Q was working on a new toy for us to play with and you put a dent in it even before it was finished,” he said when James grabbed it from him and smacked him over his hands with it. “He’s so going to let you have it when he comes back.”

 

“I was not the one who poked his nose in his office when he was away,” James grumbled and struggled to get up, using Alec as a crutch. “But I’ll defend you if you drag me back to R so I can finish what I started.”

 

Alec easily pushed him back into bed and tucked him in, patting his head. “I would love to do that and I would even offer to help you, but…” He shoved his phone into James’ face. “We were kindly asked by Q not to hurt them.”

 

James was tempted to throw the phone against the wall and then pretend that Alec had managed to break it before reading it, but his phone buzzed and then the nurse and doctor that were assigned to him walked in and held their phones close to his face, and he groaned and rolled on his side because it would take him longer to destroy all the phones in MI6 than deal with the author of all his pain.

 

Then there was the fact that Q asked him something and, secretly, James couldn’t refuse the younger man anything and while that seemed like a lie since James never brought the equipment back in one piece – Q asked him to _try_ and he actually did – and he tended to cause some problems for the younger man when he helped himself to equipment he wasn’t supposed to – but Q _never_ said not to steal it – but the Quartermaster’s words were law.

 

Jump blindly into a volcano? James did it without giving it a second thought because there was always something that Q had put together at the last moment to save his life. Suddenly steer the car to the left even if he saw nothing more that the wall of a mountain? He pushed the pedal to the metal and took a sharp turn because Q knew without a doubt there was a tunnel in there hidden by a hologram. Don’t play with the watch? He didn’t because he knew it exploded. Don’t touch that pen right now? He would do it later, but out in the field and during a dangerous situation because he had no doubt Q had prioritized finishing his work on it and that it did something marvellous – not explode because he probably swore never to make one to do that just to spite him, but something amazing nonetheless.

 

And yet those bastards dared to doubt him and worse still, they made Q doubt himself. “There are moments in which I wish Q was a lot less human,” James said coldly. “Things would be a lot easier to fix if he didn’t find it in himself to forgive them. No matter what he says, I am sure that we can find _better_ specialists out there, ones that don’t act like cliché bullies from C-list movies.”

 

“I am not saying that I don’t agree with you, but if this is what Q wants…” He trailed off and shrugged. “And you should really reconsider your wish because if Q was less human, he would drop agents faster than you could say anything in order to save the mission and remain within parameters,” Alec pointed out and in one of the rare moments, was right. “Or worse still, we’d probably have to hunt him down and whatever terrorist organization that founded his mad schemes to destroy, reshape, or take over the world. Also, I am pretty sure that _someone_ would have a hard time killing him even if he didn’t know him beforehand because he batted his eyelashes at them in a certain way.”

 

James tried to hit Alec with his pillow, but he somehow managed to miss, slip, and land face first on the floor. “Don’t say anything,” James warned and pulled himself up. “Anyway, he didn’t say that _you_ or any other agent can’t do anything to his department.” On cue, his phone rang and he groaned because Q knew him too well. “Don’t say anything about this either, Alec.”

 

The second all the drugs were out of his system, Mallory packed James up and sent him on his way, Eve flashing her phone with the message from Q behind the head of the MI6. And James was disappointed in them because did they really think him incapable of following simple orders? Okay, so maybe he sort-of was horrible at doing that, but Q had asked him not to do anything stupid.

 

He didn’t go home. “By how thorough that message was about the things that I wasn’t allowed to do to your so called department, something tells me that you _want_ me to steal things or destroy your gadgets.” He went to Q’s.

 

And Q greeted him with a squint, shampoo in his hair, and awkwardly holding a small towel in front of his groin area. “You used your deductive reasoning to reach a very obvious conclusion, very good, Bond. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my shower.”

 

Q made to close the door, but James stuck his foot in. “I don’t mind at all, but it’s just that they just fumigated my apartment—”

 

“The ‘they’ that fumigate all MI6 personnel’s apartments are sent by me and I sent no one to do that to your apartment, Bond,” Q cut him off, trying to push James’ foot out of his apartment. “I really want to finish my shower and I don’t want hear anything about packing my bags or whatever because I am not going on any vacation.”

 

The habit of distorting the truth had become so deeply embedded in his way of dealing with everything that even knowing lies of all kinds insulted Q, he couldn’t help but do it. “I am not going to pester you to do that, even if I honestly think you should go on it and remember how to enjoy not being stressed and to also let me take care of—”

 

“You’re pestering me about that and more right now,” Q pointed out, but stepped away from the door. “I am going to finish my shower. My kitchen drawers are full of takeout menus, so go wild.”

 

James didn’t expect anything different and because of that, on his way to Q’s apartment, he had made the driver wait for him outside of a market while he did some shopping. “Just to be clear,” he called out after bringing in the five bags of food, “any type of food goes, right?”

 

The water stopped and James was afraid that his surprise would be ruined when he heard Q opened the bathroom door but thankfully, the man had his eyes closed and face half covered in shampoo – and sadly using a much larger towel to cover _himself_. “I don’t have the habit of keeping things that I don’t like in my apartment, Bond.”

 

Arching his eyebrow, James moved closer to him and flashed him his most cocky grin, even if Q didn’t see it – but he was pretty sure he could _feel_ it. “Should I be honoured then?”

 

Q clicked his tongue in that unique way that said that he was really upset and which made James regret his words even more and wishing that he could bite his tongue off, his cat stopping him from walking into his own coffee table – which sadly said just how much time he spent home if he didn’t know the layout of his own apartment. “Even when you are in your most intoxicated state, you can put two and two together, so if you are to also add yesterday’s words with my earlier statement, you will have your answer.”

 

He definitely wanted to bite his tongue off. And find a madman that had a time machine that actually worked so he could go back and stop himself from speaking. Or better yet, go back in time, struggle even more to save M, actually succeed in doing so, and stop Q from being hated by so many for no real reason. “Feel free to imagine me with my foot inside my mouth,” he offered when he realized that Q wouldn’t return to his steamy bathroom until he said something.

 

Half an hour later, Q walked as if he was in a trance into the kitchen, dressed in an extra-large t-shirt that refused to stay on both of his shoulders and a pair of pants that was barely visible and making James’s imagination go wild. “You’re cooking,” Q said incredulously, stomach growling as he licked his lips.

 

“It is one of my less violent and better hidden hobbies.” He scooped up a bit of what was supposed to be their second course in a spoon and held it to Q’s lips after having made sure that it was cold enough. “Do you think I should add more salt, or is this enough?”

 

Q closed his eyes when his tongue touched the spoon and he let out a little noise which had James lick his one lips. “It’s delicious.” He made to grab the spoon, but James easily moved out of his reach.

 

“Good, then set the table and I’ll serve it in a few minutes,” James instructed, holding back a sigh when he saw Q taking out plastic plates and utensils. “I’ll count my blessings that you have actual pots,” he mumbled and Q sent him a sharp glare. “You know, it’s a bad idea to antagonize the cook…” He trailed off when he saw something he hated flash in Q’s eyes. And the way he glanced at the hot pot as he moved into a defensive position also helped make him sick and lose his appetite. “I didn’t—”

 

“I know, I know, and my reaction is just a habit,” Q quickly assured, relaxing. “No don’t waste your breath on the fact that it’s a bad and unnecessary one, because while you were sedated because you tried to strangle R,” here he sent him a disappointed look, “I was in a meeting with a psychiatrist, talking about it.”

 

He hated psychiatrists, always prying deep in the minds of others, digging, poking, stirring up things that were left forgotten, and wielding the power of turning even the best double oh agent into a shivering pile of regret that was unsuited to be in the field anymore. But he was also aware that they fixed people and that was the reason why they probed in other’s minds.

 

“I am… Good, that’s good,” James muttered, turning off the store. “But wouldn’t it also be easier for you if your problems were to be transferred in other places?”

 

Green eyes narrowed and askew glasses were arranged, James bracing himself to be kicked out of Q’s apartment. “The food will get cold if you don’t serve it now.”

 

Sighing in relief, James was quick to server the food and change the subject, pulling out one of the few pieces of equipment that he had brought back and asking Q how he managed to make it so durable. It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the explanation that became complicated all too quickly, but it didn’t matter. Q was full of life and relaxed and happy. He would slip in a compliment every now and then, smiling when he saw the light shade pink that instantly coloured Q’s normal pale face.

 

“I am afraid that this wine is much too strong for me,” Q slurred after James had popped open the third bottle of wine. “I shan’t have anymore, even though this is what ambrosia has to taste like.” He sat still for a moment and James didn’t dare to move because he knew this was a tipsy man trying to think, chuckling when Q held his glass close to him. “I shan’t have after one more glass, even though I will regret it in the morning because I detest headaches.”

 

James was stingy with this supposed last glass of wine, arching his brow at Q’s very tame glare that was more amusing than anything else because he was having a hard time focusing. “I’ll give you more if you let me pack your bags and see you off at the train station after you sober up.”

 

Q snorted, slumping in the chair and slowly starting to slide down. “I am happy with how much wine I have right now if that is your prince. I will not run away and I _will_ make them understand that I didn’t intend to kill M and that…” He chocked and James crawled under the table after him, pulling him in his arms and hugging him tightly. “I didn’t kill M; there was nothing anyone could have done and you know this because you did your best.”

 

“That’s why they marginalized you?” James asked slowly, voice quivering with anger and fingers twitching with the need to feel R’s neck. The only thing that kept him from rushing over to wherever R lived – other than the fact that he didn’t know where he lived – was that Q was clinging to him as if he was his lifeline and he was lost in a powerful storm at sea. “The rest of us know better, Q; _I_ know better. I know you did your best. _I_ know how hard you fought and _I_ know that M _ordered_ you to walk into obvious traps.”

 

“But I didn’t work hard enough to save M,” he hiccupped, tugging at his hair. “I am not clever enough to be Q! I let someone die, knowing that they will die, and that means that I am not worthy of being the Quartermaster.”

 

James crawled out from under the table and carried Q to his bed, dabbing at his face with a moist towel. “You are wrong about everything, except the clever part,” James said softly and Q chocked on air. “You’re a genius,” he added before Q could start crying harder. “No one with a working brain could think you let M die. If anything, they should blame me for her death because we were in my house, using my guns, using one of my backup plans which I didn’t run by you first.”

 

Q whined something and James just held him tighter, rubbing his back until he fell asleep. He was tempted to sneak out, grab Alec, and convince Eve to cough up R’s address, but Q was too warm, too soft, and smelled too good for his thoughts of revenge to be important right now.

 

But come tomorrow, when his mind was clearer, he’ll remember where he had stuffed that DVD M left behind alongside that horrid dog and fix everything. He’ll have them all regret their actions, eat their words, and crawl before Q without using violence – no matter how much he wanted to.

 

“Outside interference still counts as you doing something bad to them because you are the one who brought them in,” Q murmured and allowed James to pull him closer, letting out a whimper and trying to clutch his head. “How long have I been sleeping?”

 

Franky, they all deserved that more than Q’s fierce protectiveness, James thought. Oh, he’ll have to make sure to also point that out to them to make them feel even more horrible. Maybe he’ll even manage to convince them to offer themselves as targets for that riffle he accidentally broke the barrel to.

 

“No physical harm will come to them, I assure you,” James said quickly, surprised to see that he had also fallen asleep at one point and it was close to dawn. “Not long enough. Does your head hurt?” He asked as he rubbed Q’s temples, the light snore giving away the fact that the younger man was already fast asleep. “Well, one must always follow his Quartermaster.”  

 

Revenge was always sweeter when one was rested.


	17. Head Bully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17\. The new M is not the right one and Q overworks himself in order to protect James and Alec.
> 
> It didn't turn out exactly as sweet Elenduen asked, but I still hope it will be enjoyed

“It was a prototype,” Q said slowly, shaking what little was left of the weapon in front of a scratched and still bleeding Alec. “A prototype which, if you would care enough to force yourself a little to remember, I asked you _not_ to so much as scratch.” He tossed the destroyed piece of equipment in a corner of the room where the rest of the agent’s destroyed tech was, sighing as he pulled a first aid kit next to him.

 

“I honestly did my best,” Alec said like always, flinching when the angry Q started to daub a piece of cotton that was dripping medicinal alcohol over his largest gash. “I see your bedside manner is as horrible as—”

 

Q threw the piece of cotton at his head, pushing the kit on the ground. “I am not your bloody doctor, agent! I am your Quartermaster and I shouldn’t be cleaning your wounds after the barely successful mission,” Q exploded at him, leaning against the table as an obvious wave of dizziness washed over him.

 

Alec was instantly on his feet, arm around Q’s middle as he gently pushed the lithe frame to rest against his. “Are you feeling okay, Q? Do you want me to get you to Medical? Do you want water? Maybe food? Are you too hot? Too cold?” He bombarded him with questions, pulling a chair with his foot and gently lowering Q in it, pushing his cheek against his forehead as he mentally counted almost all of his ribs and got worried about that. He had lost a lot of weight recently and he couldn’t remember seeing the man actually eat instead of nibbling on whatever he was presented with by either one of his underlings, his agents, or other department colleagues.

 

Q parted his lips to say something just at the new head of MI6 barged in, his eyes burning with rage. “Do you really have time to _play_ around, Quartermaster?” The man asked and Q was on his feet and practically on the other side of the room in a second. “I see that your supposed revolutionary prototype did not see the end of just a single mission.” He snorted and Alec had tried to count back from ten to zero to keep himself from attacking him – and failing to actually calm down as he was at negative 100 and still feeling the need to break the man in half.

 

“I know what’s wrong with it now—”

 

“Other than the fact that it cost MI6 a lot of money to make only to be destroyed halfway through the mission?” The man interrupted and Q flinched at the same time as Alec. “Agent, I believe you are needed somewhere else right now?”

 

Alec could be seconds away from bleeding his entire vein system alongside his heart and brain but he still wouldn’t leave Q alone with the seething man. He had never liked him, not when he was the shady one that followed Mallory around, not when he was M’s left hand, and now that he was the new M, he outright hated the man.

 

And he wasn’t alone in his hate, everyone else in MI6 mirroring his feelings. Of course the man knew that and seemed to be getting his douchebag powers from that hate, thriving and becoming even more of a dickhead than he already was.  It seemed that he loved picking on Q, Alec’s – and James’ – sort of spies in the Q branch texting them almost daily about the new meeting their beloved Overlord had been pulled in because the screensaver took too much time to appear or because a pixel was too blue somewhere on his computer.

 

“No, not really,” Alec finally said, glancing at his watch. “And the Quartermaster finished his shift about ten minutes ago; another boffin was supposed to dress me down, but we all know how well things work whenever someone else tries to deal with myself or 007.”

 

That was usually ten minutes of one or both of them glaring until the person got so afraid they had to run to the bathroom or complete radio silence even if they were in danger until they heard Q’s soft and slightly annoyed voice asking them what was wrong or simply starting to direct them to where they were supposed to go or what buttons they were supposed to push.

 

“Quite attached to the Quartermaster, aren’t you? And since the Quartermaster, the man who whines when he has to work an extra ten minutes on his own department’s budget,” he glared at Q who, strangely enough, lowered his head instead of huffing at him and start attacking him with all the reasons why, “is willing to go that extra mile for you, should I assume that there’s something going on between you two?”

 

“No,” Q said so quickly that Alec couldn’t help but feel insulted. “The agent has his own personal life that is separate from mine and I am not the type he’d go after.” That gave him hope, even if the last part was completely wrong.

 

It was no secret that Alec had a thing for the Quartermaster. Or that Alec’s life partner – no official ceremony or paperwork to prove that, but that was what they were – had the same thing for the head boffin. And one had to be blind _and_ lacking a functioning brain not to see why.

 

For the superficial, Q was easy on the eyes, his beautiful brown, wild curls begging for fingers to get entangled in it. His eyes, though covered by glasses, were a beautiful shade of green that could make one dream of running with the man in the lushest of forest that ever existed. And his skin… His skin that was so white, so soft, easily turned pink when he was embarrassed and the way the sweat dripped down his face, over his collar bone and disappeared down the buttoned down shirts he wore during training.

 

For the ones who actually owned a brain and would be interested in Q for more than a heated, passionate meet between the sheets, there was the fact that he was a genius. He also loved the opera, consumed theatre plays after theatre plays, could talk for hours about paintings, couldn’t get enough books – though he seemed to hate PDFs as they always saw him with a physical book – and could bring down governments from behind a laptop screen and while caring for two beaten up agents who were honestly trying not to bleed over his cats and carpets.

 

Everyone from who knew him, from MI5 to the KGB, adored him. Some more than others, some like a mentors, some like a brother, some like Alec and James. But their darling Q was daft when it came to matters of the heart. Someone from MI5 – a member of his secondary security detail – once brought him _chocolates and flowers_ , like he was a woman and Q just sneezed because he was allergic to flowers and shared his sweets with his them.

 

Of course, Alec and James tracked down the wannabe Romeo and gave him ‘the talk’, explaining in the nicest way they could why it would be in his best interest to forget Q in _that_ way. The man made the huge mistake of saying that he only really wanted to give him a go and that he was sure Q would understand that agree to it after which they were free to chase him all they wanted, point where Alec went about roses – without thorns, sadly, and he was tempted to steal some from the royal gardens which were only five minutes away from them – and then promptly shoved him down his throat.

 

The more superficial of Q’s suitors backed away then, but James and Alec still had to battle quite a few and one of the more determined ones turned out to be a Miss Jenny Hobbs from accounting, who loved to wear blouses which a more than generous cleavages and did her best to hang around the man as much as she could.

 

 “We talked about you coming dressed like that in this laboratory in the past, Miss Hobs,” Q berated her in his soft voice as usual, one of his underlings throwing a laboratory coat at her face – and, by the glare he sent he when he did that, Alec deduced that the man had to be on their list and that he needed to be watched more carefully. “Even I am wearing a coat when I am in here and you know how much I hate the—Alec, please put down that beaker and back away from the table. It’s full of experimental explosives.”

 

It was a childish way to distract the Quartermaster from the harpy – the woman wasn’t all that bad and she was cute, but she got that stamp because she wanted to sink her perfectly manicured claws in their Q – and it also proved that, even though he wasn’t looking at him directly, Q still had his eyes on him.

 

“Hey, at least I have a coat,” Alec chimed in and slid close to Q, smiling at him. “And I checked with your crew and they assured me that what I was holding wasn’t instable.” He may have liked to act like a child, but he was mature and smart enough to check before touching anything because he didn’t want to hurt anyone.

 

Q clapped slowly, scowl firmly fixed on his otherwise angelic features. “I shall add a golden star next to your name on my table in my office, but keep in mind that you do have a very special kind of Midas’ touch which makes things explode even if they aren’t supposed to.” He pushed his face away so he can look at the fuming harpy. “Miss Hobbs, is there anything that I can do for you today? Is there something wrong with the budget I turned in this month?”

 

The woman shifted her eyes towards Alec for a moment and it looked like she wanted to say that it was because it probably was too small and that meant that Q clearly pretended to forget to include the 006 and 007 accidents expenses, but kept quiet. “Ah, no. I am not here in work matters. I am here—”   

 

“Are you here on unofficial business on MI6 time?” It was James that interrupted her this time, appearing out of nowhere and somehow managing to make the laboratory coat look good on him – and upon a closer inspection, Alec realized that it was custom made. “Q, I heard that you need extra help with some weapon testing?”

 

Q tilted his head to the side a bit, glasses slipping off his nose. “I suddenly have a vision of a future in which you somehow manage to destroy _everything_ by the end of this test,” he muttered, sighing and taking his glasses off. “Still, better here where I can instantly mend to your wounds than in the middle of a fight God knows where.” He smirked and all three of his admirers forgot how to breathe. “Oh, Miss Hobbs, you were saying?”

 

It took the woman a second to remember why she was there, but she really couldn’t be blamed because a smirking Q was a rare sight. “I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me. A lunch just between you and me and no one else, since it’s meant to be a date,” she added quickly as the last person to have done this – while he and James were away, mind you – ended up having to share Q’s attention with his entire department because it was some random boffin’s birthday.

 

Now, it would have been easy for them to distract Q from giving a proper answer and the date altogether by blowing shit up, but they didn’t. It wouldn’t be fair or respectful towards the other people that were working in the laboratory, towards Jenny – who, again, wasn’t bad – towards Q himself, and while they adored him and wanted him to be theirs and theirs alone, they weren’t insane.

 

You could see the way Q’s mental chip processed the question – he was Q; he didn’t have wheels – until a little led light turned green above his head. “I am sorry, Miss Hobbs, but I am…” He trailed off, colour draining from his face, pupils a bit dilated. “I am busy today with the agents and I don’t have time for lunch.” He cleared his throat and started to rub the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. “I am truly sorry about this, Miss Hobbs, and I hope you can find someone else that deserves your free time.”

 

They had brought in food later that day, but now that Alec has his hand around Q’s middle again so he could better guide him towards his car and was even more painfully aware of his ribs through his clothes than earlier today, the fact that he had only half a bagel and the smallest slice of pizza should have tipped them off that there was something wrong with the man’s appetite.

 

Their _temporary_ superior hummed, eyes narrowed. “You seem to say that with regret, Quartermaster.”

 

Q swallowed hard, now panicked. So Alec stepped in between the two, hiding the thin man behind him and making it quite clear with his eyes that he was ready to break anyone who had ill intentions towards him. “Speaking freely, _sir_ , I don’t think the voice tone my Quartermaster employs when it comes to personal matters is of any concern to you.” He then grabbed Q and waltzed right out, feeling like he had won a million pounds.

 

“Thank you, Alec, but you shouldn’t have done that,” Q muttered as they stopped in front of James’ Aston Martin, head lowered. “The problems he has are usually reserved in less than five minutes and—”

 

“And MI6 actually has an IT section that exists for the sole purpose of asking people if they have turning it off and on again.” Alec opened the car’s door and pushed Q in. “Last time I checked, you were the Quartermaster, not Maurice from the IT Crowd.” He got in the car and started it, fiddling with the GPS. “Do you know a restaurant that’s still open at this hour? I know a few food carts, but I don’t want you to get sick.”

 

Q took a moment before pushing Alec’s hand away and putting in an address. “It’s a tea house, but they also serve sweets and sandwiches.”

 

Alec swallowed his words about how, considering the stick Q had turned into, a sandwich couldn’t be considered food. “Q, is everything okay?”

 

“Yes.” It was sad that Q could lie to him without giving it a second thought. “Alec, my apartment is five minutes away from this place; could you drop me off before going to eat?” And lie badly, at that.

 

“Could you keep me company? I don’t like eating alone and James is in Scotland—” He pulled over, clutching Q’s shoulder because the man looked like he was in pain and he was sweating. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want water? Do you want to go to Medical? Q, tell me what you want or need and I’ll get it for you.”

 

“I want…” Q started but trailed off in favour of groaning and clutching Alec’s arm, eyes wide and filled with panic. “I need a moment of silence, Alec. I need the world to stop spinning so fast and quiet, okay?” He had raised his voice and he was now gasping for breath, his nails digging into Alec’s arm. “Don’t ask me anything right now!” He shouted again licking his lips and looking desperately around before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and fell over Alec.

 

“Q? Q can you hear me?” Now it was Alec’s turn to panic and he didn’t know if he should push Q back on his side and try to shake him or rest his head in his lap and just floor it until he reached the first hospital. “Q, tell me what to do.”

 

***

 

He woke up feeling dazed and confused, his body hurting all over and his head like it was nothing more than a huge barrel stuffed with TNT and about to explode. His mouth also felt like it was filled with sand and when he tried to swallow the little saliva he had, he wondered when his throat had been replaced with sandpaper.

 

Someone moved suddenly and supported his head, holding a glass of cold water to his cracked lips. “Drink slowly,” the person instructed and after digging a bit through his mind he finally associated a name with the voice.

 

“Bond,” he croaked out, startled by his own rough voice, “what happened?”

 

“That’s what we’d like to know,” the man grumbled, helping him stand upright while another blur started to put pillow behind him. “You’re underweight, anaemic, and according to your work logs which we had R stick her nose through, you worked 90 hours this past week on projects that are most definitely not your department. So tell us, Q, what happened?”

 

The new M happened, he was tempted to answer. The new head of MI6 who had a bone to pick with him because he was too young and because he _suspected_ that he was gay. For the love of God, they were in the 21 st century; why did people still care about one’s sexual preferences? And threaten them with getting them fired and thrown in jail if their employees liked cock over pussy?

 

But he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t explode and shout out at the injustice because he had gotten his position in MI6 by _hacking_ their systems and showing Boothroyd just where the weaknesses were and just how good he was with the computers and jail was not where he would like to end his career in espionage.

 

And then there was the fact that this M had threatened _Alec and James_ , two people that Q cared more about than himself. They were his weakness and that was sadly obvious even to a blind man – but not to them, it seemed, and if they knew, at least they were kind enough to pretend that they didn’t.

 

When Q had become the Quartermaster, Boothroyd had warned him about the two, but he had scoffed. He foolishly believed that he would not succumb to their strange charm, horrible jokes, and even more horrible lines. And at first, when he had met James, he was sure that wouldn’t be the case. But then the man grew on him and his heart stopped every time he was in danger – which was constantly – and then Alec appeared like an added insult to his already injured heart.

 

He suddenly found himself pinning like a teenage girl and for two men like he was in some kind of a cheesy romance novel – it couldn’t be erotica because according to the rules of those types of universes, he would have already been screwed five ways to Sunday by now – and there was nothing he could do about it. The men treated him differently from the others they sort of considered friends and even though they did heavily rely on him bailing their fine asses out of trouble and even stole, all the gifts he received in return were never the type that would serve them later.   

 

“I may have bitten a bit too much than I can chew,” he said instead. “But I am sure that everything will be fixed with just a bit of rest and—”

 

“And the truth would do you a lot of good,” Alec spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically cold. “We’re staring at the shadow of the Q we once knew, a pale imitation of a strong man who constantly went up against others who wanted to feast on _his_ department, _his_ agents, and _his_ ideas.” He man gently cupped his face and Q just gave in on something he had wanted to do a long time ago and pushed against the calloused hands that were almost constantly covered in blood. “But now, I am afraid that if the wind gets too strong, it will blow you away and leave us alone.”

 

“I’m just tired,” Q insisted, turning with his back to the man. “It happens to us mortals every now and then, you know. We work too much one week and then collapse.” It also happened to people who were forced to interact with their bullies on a daily basis, all the things they held dear threatened if they dared to speak up against them. “I just need a good night’s rest alongside one or two IV’s and I’ll be back behind the console, pretending that I am not bending to your every whim.”

 

He didn’t expect Alec to rest his forehead against his, or for James to sit on the edge of the bed and bury his nose in his neck, so he froze and forgot how to breathe. “Darling, sweet, adorable, Q…” Alec started, his warm breath that didn’t smell of alcohol washing over his face.

 

“We’d have you bending for another type of whims, ones that would leave you pleasantly tired and more than satisfied,” James continued and Q questioned his hearing. “You’ve been out of it for three days and they’ve changed so many IVs that I am pretty sure that at this point, they’d accidentally find blood in your infusion liquid. So we will ask you again: what happened?”

 

What James was doing wasn’t fair and although Q only _sometimes_ wondered how the man managed to get all the information he needed from his targets with his cocky attitude and his lame lines, he never really wanted to see that mysterious power used on him.

 

“Q, you give us a hard time for good reason when we disappear off your radar without giving you a heads up, especially after we return with more scars and more dead than alive,” Alec pushed, brushing his lips with his thumb. “We understand now, the terror you feel when that happens, the complete panic at not knowing what to do when we do finally show up, and the pure panic that drowns out all of your logic when you are faced with our motionless bodies.”

 

And the last bit of Q’s armour finally cracked because even though he was sure they were just acting because they were spies and they had to know everything that happened around them. “I’m too young and I am not straight and I’ll end up in jail and you’ll be forcefully retired if I don’t prove myself.” Having said that in one go left him breathless and dizzy. “So now that you know, feel free to leave me alone to make sure to none of our careers are ruined.”

 

He struggled to burrow under to covers and tried to hold back his hiccups and block out the sound of the door being closed – if the agents even bothered to do that. But instead of disappearing, James started gently rubbing his back while Alec paced around the room, cussing.

 

“Alec, put that chair down before we get kicked out of here and the spare wins,” James growled out. “Q, let’s pretend that we’re on a mission right now and I am missing something obvious that you need to painfully point out in your slightly annoyed voice, so please start from the beginning.”

 

So he did. Not a day after Olivia died, when Q was supposed to be in his downtime, he was ordered back at MI6 and in the new M’s office. He almost groaned when he saw who was behind the desk, glancing at the not obvious disappointed and insulted Mallory. If he and his new department would have shared the double oh dark sense of humour, they would all have better on the former M’s right hand man getting her position, not the talking turd.

 

“I don’t like you,” he said outright and Q snorted because that had been clear since he was hired. “I don’t like your attitude and I don’t like the fact that you honestly think you are a breath of fresh air in this organization.”

 

As he was not yet aware of the sword that hanged above his head, Q talked back. “You can’t argue against that, as my breath smells minty while yours…” He trailed off and turned his head away, covering his nose. “Now, if you don’t have any more useless bile to spill at me, I’d like to return home.”

 

The man hit his desk with his fists, getting up so fast that he tipped over his chair. “I will not have one of my own employees talk with me! And you will remember your place, especially after all the rules you broke!”

 

“My rule breaking is what caused Silva to be dealt with,” Q instantly shot back, glaring right back at the man. “If I had allowed myself to be constrained by—”

 

The man hit his desk again, causing his mug to fall down and crush. “Silva broke through our defences, Olivia is dead, an agent’s house is destroyed and he can totally ask us to pay for that bloody mansion to be repaired and not to mention that our building is in shambles—”

 

“Now what just a minute! MI6 blowing up happened before I became a Quartermaster! There is no way for you to pin it on me.” He didn’t mean to make it seem like the Major was to blame for the original attack, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be blamed for what. “And Bond would never ask us to pay him back for Skyfall. He’d turn us down even if we insisted, undoubtedly feeling insulted.”

 

The man must have seen something in his eyes because he suddenly looked like he got the best hand at poker. “Quartermaster, are you aware that physical relationships between a superior and an underling is frowned upon in this organization? Especially since it seems like the reason you broke the rules is because your lover asked you nicely?”

 

“I am not enamoured with Bond. I just met the man a few days ago,” Q lied and the bastard was well aware of that. He had actually met the man one year prior when the agent was sent in Germany – where he was hiding from the FBI and a few terrorist organizations – to bring him back safely in the country. In fact, they had clicked so well in a weird way that the Major had appointed him as the agent’s main boffin.

 

“The fact is that you still broke the rules and allowed an unstable man to go off the radar,” the bastard insisted. “I should have you arrested, him retested and the give him the boot he deserves.”

 

Q clenched his fists. “What I did, I did for the good of his organization and country and with that agent’s help, Silva is no more and we are safe once again. And this is not the first time he does this, so go ahead and _try_ to do anything against us for this.”

 

They glared at each other for a few moments and the new M was the first to back away.  “I will hold back for this incident, but I will keep an eye out on you. And on 006, as it seems that the agent that’s supposed to be MIA still has MI6 paying for his apartment and funds as well as weapons keep getting sent into areas of the world that we don’t have any active agents.”

 

“That’s—”

 

“Oh, and one more things.” The man leaned closer to Q, voice low. “I am getting certain vibes off of you, vibes that I better be wrong about.” When Q looked confused at him, he let out a low growl. “And you claim to be a genius,” he grumbled. “You are as straight as your hair and if you so much as look at those two pain in the asses in a queer way, I will throw you in that jail you deserve to rot in for being a traitor and stick them in retirement homes that have a continent between them.”

 

Q’s weakness confirmed mean that the man had a green light to start tormenting him. And that was exactly what he did, breathing down his neck when he worked with sensitive materials, dropping by unexpectedly when he was working with the agents and demanding his full attention, throwing him in meeting after meeting after almost every mission, even going so far as to send him in special classes when he felt Q didn’t respect enough or turn down projects Q considered important because it was taking him too long to finish them.

 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Alec asked in a small voice, squeezing his shoulder.

 

“What part did you not understand out of him promising to separate you two and kick you out of MI6?” Q snapped, jumping up so fast that he almost bumped heads with them. “And what would have happened if I told you? Or how could I have told you? James, Alec, this bully is picking on me, please break his legs?”

 

“Yes,” James growled, clutching Q’s shoulders tightly and pulling him to his chest. “Just like that and I assure you that we’ll do much worse things to him than breaking his legs,” he promised, kissing the top of his head.

 

“Bond—”

 

“No, you called me James once so now you have to call me that forever.” He kissed Q’s head again and then lied him back down on the bed, Alec tucking him in and caressing his face with the back of his hand. “Hospital food, even when if it’s a private one, is horrible. So we’ll go kill M and bring you food and your favourite tea.”

 

Q quickly grabbed James’ hand, trying to also stop Alec with his foot – and failing even to so much as touch him. “You’ll end up in jail,” he hissed, trying to tug him back only to be distracted by Alec tickling his foot.

 

“Don’t worry, Q. They won’t catch us.” Alec tried to be reassuring, but he was anything but that. “I have no doubt that everyone will cover for us once they find out what happened.” He was, in fact, scaring Q quite a lot because he didn’t want _everyone_ ending up in jail. “And when you feel better and the bastard is no longer there, how about the three of us go eat something? Just the three of us, but in a restaurant and clearly on a date.”

 

“You will _not_ do anything stupid that will land you in trouble after I lost almost twenty kilograms protecting you,” Q shrieked and the two men stopped in their tracks. “Can you hear and understand what I am telling you or am I just wasting my breath and seen as nothing more than the perfect reason to get rid of someone you hate?”

 

Both men sat back down on the bed, James sighing as he gave Q a glass of water. “It’s beyond me how you could still think we’d just use you, Q.”

 

Q finally felt himself getting relaxed, his eyelids growing heavy. “And it’s beyond me why you two would still try to do something that would endanger you and rob you of your freedom after I made it more than clear that I put up with everything mostly for your sake.”

 

Someone snorted and Q tensed up again, both men covering him with their bodies from the intruder. “Settle down, men,” Eve’s sweet voice drifted in. “And consider that as an order from Mallory or as I like to call him, M.”


	18. After class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. James is a teacher and Q his student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet anonymous asked for a hot teacher James and an awkward student Q. My muse went overboard as it usually does.

Most of the days, he loved his job. He loved sharing his seemingly endless knowledge with his students, loved answering all sort of questions even if sometimes they were so dumb that he wondered how the hell the student that spoke could remember to breathe without someone reminding them how to do it. But that was okay because he was a teacher and even if he taught people who were 18 years old and up and, logically, they shouldn’t be able to be there by being that stupid, it was still his job to lead his students down the path of enlightenment. And then there were days in which he just wanted to quit, pack everything, and leave the planet. 

He didn’t have this problem in the previous years. Then again, in the previous years he didn’t have him as a student. Who was ‘him’? Well, ‘him’ just had to be the mischievous Puck Shakespeare wrote about, only hotter, smarter, and didn’t have magical powers in the normal way of speaking. And yes, ‘him’ was indeed a man, because he was a pansexual teacher who just happened to fall for this man who just happened to his student – and of age because – and he was playing the pronoun name because just naming ‘him’ made him need a cold shower.

The man that stole his mind liked sitting in the front row of his class, dressed in ridiculously coloured clothing that somehow looked decent on him – probably the first time in the universe when the man honestly made the clothes and not the other way around – asking things or answering hard questions in a soft and yet strong voice, his posh accent not sounding fake or annoying at all.

He also had glasses that insisted on constantly sliding down his button nose which made him frown slightly and push them back with his slender fingers. Of course then his messy, brown hair would get it the way and he sighed and whispered to himself – he always hovered near his desk – that he would definitely cut it that day, but he never did.

And James was happy about that, although it was not his place to comment or even think of what the man should do with his hair. But he really couldn’t help it, spacing out in the cold shower every now and then – at least once per day, every day – and dreaming of tangling his fingers in what had to be soft brown locks and tugging him forward, sometimes kissing and biting those red lips that the man chewed on during every exam and other times pushing him to his knees and imagining just how soft they could be and how warm his mouth was.

But he wasn’t the only one who suffered through his class. The man in question didn’t have it any better, doing his best not to openly stare at his teacher which was a lord harder than it sounded. Sometimes he was tempted to just take off his glasses so that Professor Bond turned into nothing more than a blurry blob that spoke of sonnets and plays and poems and maybe even his own shopping list because damn it! Even his voice was hot at he couldn’t help but picture sitting in his lap as the man whispered his lessons or whatever he wanted in his ear.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying his best not to take notice that hot Professor Bond had stopped in front of his desk, looking at him with those blue eyes that reminded him of the sea – and he was sure he had the body of a sailor, his tight expensive suits leaving little to the imagination.

“Mister Boothroyd, is everything okay?” The man asked, now kneeling in front of his desk, worry clear in his eyes. “You look paler than usual; do you need to go outside for a bit of fresh air?”

Oh, he needed something alright, but fresh air wasn’t it. “I did not mean to disturb your class, Professor Bond. I think I shall take my sickness outside.” He got up and turned to his colleague to ask him to move away, but his teacher grabbed his arm and gently pulled him over the desk, wrapping his strong arm around his middle – and the glares he got from most of the women in the room made him shiver a lot easier than the glares he got from the few men.

“Dear me, Mister Boothroyd, you’re shivering like a leaf,” Professor Bond whispered in his ear, tutting and it really wasn’t fair that the man was so buff. How could a teacher have this many muscles and be so well worked? Many had teased him about only being able to become a teacher, what with his big glasses, love for cardigans, and inability to get muscle and yet, right then, he was being held by a teacher that felt like a real Hercules would. “Class, please read and write a few lines about Lord Byron’s ‘She Walks in Beauty’ while I make sure that your colleague here doesn’t faint on us.”

“Professor Bond, you really shouldn’t bother with—”

The man squeezed him and started to walk towards the door, whispers starting to echo off the walls of the auditorium. “Nonsense, Mister Boothroyd. I can’t have my best student pass out in front of my class while I carry on with my lecture.”

He thought the man was going to walk him out, sit him on a bench and maybe get him a bottle of water before returning. But the man passed all the benches and all the vending machines, making a beeline for his office. 

“Miss Moneypenny, a cup of coffee for young Mister Boothroyd and please see if we have some vitamins as well in your deep medicine box,” he asked the curly haired woman that tilted her head slightly to glance at him.

“I am afraid that my box only holds hangover cures, Professor Bond,” she called out, leaning further still so she wouldn’t lose sight of them. “And your student only drinks tea.”

His professor glanced at him and he nodded mutely. “Miss Moneypenny fancies herself a regular spy and she knows way more things than she should.” He sent her a little glare and the woman grinned back at them, resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

“I just happened to bump into your Mister Boothroyd at the coffee shop yesterday morning, at 3. He was sitting hunched over your text books, furiously typing at his laptop and surrounded by at last four empty mugs of tea,” the secretary explained, now looking through a cabinet. “Did I not say that you shouldn’t overwork your—”

“Just bring him some tea, Miss Moneypenny,” the professor interrupted her, carefully placing Q down in a chair and opening the windows, crouching down next to him. “Am I really to blame for your current predicament, Mister Boothroyd?” 

He shook his head, licking his lips and trying to will away the thoughts that had entered his mind and refused to give him peace – but who could honestly say that he would have such thoughts when Professor Bond was sitting like that in front of them? “I am ashamed to admit it, but I have to double my effort to be decent in your class, Mister Bond.” 

The professor arched his eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe, Mister Boothroyd. You have never made me want to bash my head against a wall, never made me question the future of our world, and all of your answers and exam scores are exemplary.” 

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I am doing a good job at pretending to know what I am talking about. I excel in scientific fields, not at poetry.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, sighing. “I honestly do not know what I was thinking when I signed up for your class.” It might have something to do with the fact that he had seen him jogging shirtless around campus on the morning he came to sign up and his hormones took over his brain. “And please call me Q; mister Boothroyd is my father.” 

Miss Moneypenny barged in before the professor could say anything, placing the cup of tea in front of Q. “Far be it for me, a mere secretary—”

“Really not the time,” the older man tried to interrupt her, sighing when a heel was pushed in his foot.

“—to point out that drinking something with caffeine when you are this tired is something stupid for someone who is being hailed as a genius by the scientific departments,” she sat down in the professor’s chair, crossing her legs – and punching Q in the heart because the two had to be an item or at least sleeping together for the woman to have this much control in their boss’s office – and grinning, “but that is exactly what I am going to do and that is why you are going to drink chamomile tea.”

His teacher let out a long sigh, rubbing his face. “I swear that I am going to fire you one of these days and I then I will go out and celebrate it.” He opened the door even wider than it already was. “I believe you still have work to do, Miss Moneypenny.”

She snorted. “And you still have to teach a class and yet here we both are, slacking off—”

Q cleared his throat and got up fast, becoming temporarily blind and almost losing his balance. “I will excuse myself and leave before I cause any more trouble or cause any more delays in your surely busy schedules.” His heart skipped a beat when he realized that the reason he wasn’t inspecting the floor for dust was because his teacher was fast on his feet and had strong arms.

“Miss Moneypenny, did you call a cab for Q?” She nodded and Mister Bond patted his back and pushed him back down in the chair. “Okay, so maybe I won’t fire you too soon.” 

“You’ll find all the information you need to understand today’s class in these papers, Q.” She held out a bunch of papers to Q. “Mister Bond, you‘d best return to you class before Mrs. Olivia gets another reason to want your head.” 

“She’ll always want my head, no matter what,” the professor grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Q, as I’d hate to lose you as a student and I’d hate it even more if you pass out or end up in the hospital because of exhaustion, we can set up a series of tutoring sessions if you want.” He smiled and Q suddenly wondered what breathing and thinking was. “Well, what do you think?”

“Sorry, I guess I am more tired than I thought,” Q lied through his teeth, shaking his head and burning his tongue with a hefty gulp of hot, steaming chamomile tea. “But yes, if that is possible, I’d be more than happy to do it.”

Professor Bond smiled and held his hand out. “Contact Miss Moneypenny after you have rested and had a chance to glance at your own schedule and we’ll see what we can set up.” They shook hands and then his teacher excused himself, jogging back to his class and leaving Q to stare after him.

He missed the skip in the man’s step and the goofy smile he had on his face up until his hand brushed up against his class’ doorknob. That was when reality struck him and he internally cringed because Q, while an adult, was his student. And while this university didn’t prohibit consensual relationships between students and teachers, they weren’t very happy if the lovers or spouses had classes together and one of them was the teacher.

Then there was the fact that Q – he made a mental note to ask the man why he wanted to be called that as neither of his names had that letter in it and also another one for him to be very satisfied about being allowed to call him that – was still a mystery to him. Was he gay? Was he straight? Was he asexual? Was he even interested in him or did he stare at him with a twinkle in his eyes because his glasses were broken? If he came on to him and it turned out that he was at least bi-curious, would he answer to the advances because he was interested in him or because he was going to think that doing anything else would get him an instant fail in his class?

“Why the hell am I even thinking about all of that?” He asked himself out loud, clutching the door know tightly, angry at himself. He was anything but a horny teenager, so he should be able to control his thoughts. But he had named ‘him’ and even allowed by ‘him’ to use a nickname – though he’d much prefer ‘qt’ or ‘qt3.14’, the latter suiting him better if Eve’s words were to be believed – and now that he was going to teach ‘him’, he should embrace the colour blue that would forever be present on his balls.

“That was disappointingly fast,” someone whispered when he finally walked through the door and he rolled his eyes.

As if he wouldn’t take his long ass time with Q. “One shouldn’t leave children unattended for too long, lest he wishes to return to a class filled of tears and snot.” His voice was shaper that he had intended and the class had instantly fallen silent because Professor Bond never openly got annoyed. “Now, if I hear just a single good explanation of the poem I left you all to muse upon and jolt your thoughts on, I am ending the class earlier and the person who wrote it gets extra credit.”

That was more than enough to get them all back on track and, since he wasn’t the type of teacher who gave extra anything just because the sun was shining, the coffee maker didn’t burn his coffee this time, Q smiled at him, Q blushed because he gave him a metaphorical pat on the back for a good answer, and oh god was he screwed.

***

Q was nervous and tempted to call off the whole thing, drop the professor’s class and start another university somewhere else, avoiding blindingly signing up to classes just because someone is hot. Bloody hell, he still couldn’t believe he did that and he was pretty sure that if anyone found out about that, he wouldn’t be considered a genius anymore. 

His bruised ego and his confused feelings aside, he couldn’t leave the university because both his parents attended it. True, it was one of the best universities in the world but he didn’t really need the diploma since he already had three so him attending here was more to see if he could feel the love for this place that his parents did and so far so good, mins the fact that cupid had to go and be a dick and involve a professor in his love life that was non-existent. 

“If you’re too tired, we can reschedule,” the professor’s voice came out of nowhere, making Q almost jump out of his skin. 

“My mind drifted,” Q said quickly, awkwardly shaking the man’s hand and hoping that his palms weren’t sweaty. “It does that quite a lot and while it helps me on the subjects I could do in my sleep, when it comes to yours…” He trailed off, sighing. 

“Well, do not worry as I will ensure that all your problems with my class stop.” He patted Q’s back and then moved away the saltshaker from the table so he’d have room for his thick book. “Tell me, do you like reading stories? I understand if you don’t as I’ve often found that men of numbers find reading books that make out the bulk of my class rather boring and pointless.” 

He looked sheepishly at the older man, twiddling his thumbs. “I do not wish to insult that which you are most passionate about, Professor Bond, but I share their sentiment. I find poems to be a nice way for someone to say that they want to be in someone’s pants or a convoluted way to make a comment on the fleeting nature of human lives or whatever leitmotif the poet choses, romance novels to be a bore as they always end up together after a series of unfortunate events and misunderstandings.” 

His professor hummed, nodding. “Then you are a great actor because you’ve always looked transpired when I was reading poetry.” 

Q conceded to himself that it depended on who did the reading because he couldn’t help but start liking a poem that was heard in the professor’s voice. “I am always amazed whenever I see someone fascinated by them,” he lied, thankful when the waitress finally brought the tea and coffee he had ordered beforehand. 

“They either mixed up your order or you find me so boring that you decided to drink something you like in a combination with something you hate,” the man said, frowning when Q pushed the cup of coffee next to him.

“I understand that it was decided that I do not pay for the tutoring lessons, but I thought that the least that I could do is to get you some coffee because I know I’ll be a handful.” He took out his laptop and opened it, tapping the spacebar as if that would make the machine turn on faster. “So, with what are we starting today?”

The first session went okay, though Q did his best not to look the man in the eye and not turn beet red whenever he recited a poem. He failed doing both things and ended up worrying his professor when he saw him change colours, thinking that he had a fever.

“It’s a bit too hot in here, that’s all.” He was becoming an excellent liar but just to make sure that the man would believe him, he opened a few buttons on his shirt.

Bond liked his lips and mentally punched himself, closing the books. “Well then, next time we’ll just have to find a place that’s better aired, won’t we?”

Q blinked a few times, smiling. “You mean to say that I am helpless and you won’t ask me to drop your class?”

His heart stopped when the man leaned over to tap his forehead. “You have a wonderful brain, Q. You struggled understanding something that bored you on your own and you did a wonderful job at fooling me into thinking that this was something you liked. Are you sure you’re not interested in becoming an actor?” He joked, chuckling.

“And stay away from my one true love?” Q asked incredulously, hand over his chest. “But joking aside, Professor Bond, I did find it easier to understand what they wanted to say with your help. I still find it tedious and feel as if this should be as a mandatory class for future psychiatrists and psychologists, but at least I didn’t want to rip my hair that much anymore.” 

They decided to have tutoring session after each of his classes and twice before an exam and slowly, Q started to relax around the man. Not start to regard him as not a love interest, but be less awkward around him and stopped stuttering whenever he was asked to comment on a part that was pornographic in nature – a good thing these sessions took place in public because if he found himself alone with the professor, Q was sure he’d do something stupid.

On his part, Bond was happy that they had silently agreed on coffee shop and restaurant hoping because of the same issue, though he started to find it harder and harder not to tug the man over the tables and kiss him, sure by now that Q was temptation personified.

The way he nibbled on his thumb when he struggled to remember lines from either Shakespeare or a poem, the way he sucked on and licked his lips when he was typing whatever he had told him, and the way he ran his hand through his hair, leaning closer to speak when the place they were in got louder simply killed him. And Eve loved every moment of it, of course.

“Out of all the people and fellow teachers that threw themselves at you, James, outright saying that they would be more than grateful for just a single night between your coveted sheets, you just had to go for the one that’s the bloody apple of Eden,” she teased, laughing when he groaned and hit his head against the table.

Maybe he could knock his lust, thoughts, and feelings out of his head if he did this long enough. “He’s the universe’s way of punishing me, I am sure.” He never saw Q with anyone that was closer than a friend, his student eagerly waving off the small group of people that he was with whenever he was waved over, informing him in his soft voice of whatever advancement in his class he had managed to do on his own.

“Well, you know what they say about karma,” Eve chimed in, cracking her knuckles and grinning. “I wonder how many students you’ve had over the years that did their best to get your attention, to get you to notice them just so you’d fall for them. And you! You just had to fall for that one student, that one person who is walking around in shirts that look like he’s just finished a fight in art class and lost. Though…” She trailed off, thus gaining Bond’s full attention.

“Though?” He prompted, eyes narrowed.

She hoped off her chair and started to move around the room, starting to prepare herself a cup of coffee – she actually rarely prepared James one. “I do have to admit that it’s easy to see why you fell for him. He is smart,” James nodded, “adorable and hot in the same package,” James nodded again, “and he is sweetly unaware of what’s happening around him.”

James stopped mid-nod. “What do you mean?”

Eve clicked her tongue, turning to face him. “You are as subtle as an elephant in a china shop, James. You say he runs towards you when you wave him over, but you’re the one who trails off of him like a lost puppy. You go out of your way to touch him in a professional way which means that you spend five minutes just doing this.” She started to wave her hands around, switching from looking constipated to looking worried and then to satisfied when her hand finally rested on the invisible shoulder besides her.

“I do not do that,” James protested and she snorted. 

“Yes you do and Miss Oliva is checking her mail every other hour to see if she got a complaint from Mister Boothroyd while the scientific departments are taking out their death rays out of the basement for when that happens.” She pulled out a little notebook and showed it to him. “This is what I confiscated from one of your students.”

James’ face fell and he regretted not having a fireplace to throw the notebook in. “Does Q know that they’re placing bets on when, where, and for how long we’ll do it?” Eve shook her head and he sighed in relief. “Maybe I should stop the tutoring; he’s greatly improved and during our last session, we ended up just eating and talking because he had done everything perfectly from the first try.”

Eve hummed. “Well, if you feel that’s the best course of action. But do try to dump him in a kind way for both of your sakes because you tend to be—”

James shoved a muffin in her mouth. “I will not be dumping him, Miss Moneypenny, because we haven’t been dating in the first place. I am his teacher and he is my student.” He then added after a moment of heavy silence: “Although we are both grown men by law and he did joke that if he aces this exam, I should take him to a movie.” At least he thought Q was joking. Was he joking? Maybe he wasn't joking and James was missing the signs the man he was sending him. "How is it that I am the teacher and not a student? Are we sure that's not the way things really are?"

Eve rolled her eyes, taking a small sip from her coffee. “If it makes you feel better, everyone is asking themselves how you ended up being a teacher, a good one at that. And also, you were totally on a date with your student, shame.” James threw a notebook after her, missing her completely. “Okay, let's pretend you guys haven't been dating up until now without either one of you knowing because a genius and a respected teacher turn out to be complete morons when it comes to the obvious.”

“I’ll not have you insult Q, Eve,” he instantly growled, the woman arching her eyebrow at his reaction.

“You know that I didn’t say it with that intent,” she said slowly and James backed down, rubbing his temples because he knew that and yet he couldn’t hold his temper when it came to Q. “Back to our main topic, could you tell me if you know anything about him, other than he's trying really hard not to hiss at what you are teaching and that he hates coffee?”

On that note, James remembered that he owes the student at least five cups of tea. “I might,” he admitted slowly and embarrassingly, closing his eyes. He knew quite a lot, such as that Q could eat at any hour and anything without gaining any weight, the younger man grumbling in his plate about that the first time they went somewhere to eat and James pointed out that he was too skinny.

“One of my elder cousins, the one that works for the government if you remember me talking about him a few days ago, is jealous of me because of that,” he had said softly, being in complete disagreement with the way he was shovelling food in his mouth. “His other brother, the detective, likes to pretend that he doesn’t care, but he throws food at me every chance we see each other, pretending that he is experimenting this or that.” He wiggled his nose, grinning. “I do honestly love my fast metabolism, especially since I am the one that asks if you’re going to eat that.”

James chuckled and pushed his plate in front of Q, getting up to refill their soda cups because he didn’t want to stare at him – he liked to lick his fingers after eating chips and it seemed that he had never seen porn movies because the way he twirled his tongue around his fingers made him think of at least twenty he had seen so far. 

Eve patted his back, leaning close to whisper in his ear. “Do you want me to pour a bucket of cold water on you?” 

“Yes,” he answered honestly. “And you to grade his paper?” He held it to the woman whose amused face cracked for long enough for him to see the worry. “I would do it myself, but I really need to get myself an actual, official date with someone that’s not my student and I might be worried that I’d be tempted to give him a top mark for simply being Q.”

Sighing, the woman grabbed the paper and shoved it in her folder. “So, will you be ending this whole thing? Or are you going to further torment yourself with his adorable presence around you?”

“If he gets a good grade on that paper, I will inform him that my services are no longer needed,” he promised.

It was a good thing he didn’t swear on anything because a week later, he was meeting with Q outside of campus. They were getting ready to go in a cinema and see a movie because, even though he had asked Eve to be as objective as she could be with Q’s paper – but not unfairly cruel, mind you – his student still aced it and James felt that he just had to live up to his promise and that he just had to keep tutoring him until Q himself felt and said that he no longer needed it. 

Q was just bursting with life and happiness, skipping when he thought James wasn’t looking and talking excitedly. “This is the highest mark I have ever gotten in your class.” He was talking excitedly about the outcome of the quiz, of course, not the fat that he was on a one sided date with him. “You are a truly wonderful teacher, Professor Bond.” 

“I am only as good as my students, Q.” He looked at Q and his heart skipped a beat when he saw how the man’s green eyes sparkled. “Also, since we aren’t on campus right now, you are free to call me James, if you so wish.”

“James,” Q said slowly and turned red to the tips of his ears, James’ heart skipping yet another beat at the way his name rolled off of his tongue. He should really go see a doctor about that – or just shove the younger man up against a wall and steal a kiss, quit his job, and run away with him on a small little island somewhere. “What movie are we seeing?”

“Oh, I honestly have no idea,” he admitted, pulling out two tickets from the inner pocket of his jacket. “I kept meaning to go buy the tickets or reserve them online, but I rarely have time to do anything other than grade papers during exam period, so I asked Eve do buy them for me.” 

Q had stopped a few steps back, James adding to the list that he could move as graceful and silent as a cat when he wanted to. “I did not mean to pull you away from your work, Professor Bond,” Q said quickly, looking as terrified as if he had unleashed the apocalypse upon the world. “Please, allow me to pay you back for both tickets.”

Not knowing what to do an afraid that Q would go so far as to run away from him while throwing his wallet at him – for which he was currently digging through in his hoodie – he grabbed his arm and tugged him closer. “You didn't do anything wrong; this is a welcomed distraction and I'm not going to fall behind on anything because I am done with all the exams and I already have a list of books for the students that need extra credit.” He felt Q relax a bit and then saw him turn red. “Now, let’s go in before we miss the commercials. Something tells me that Eve choose the worst movie she could find.”

He was disappointed when he realized that he was right and that Eve had chosen a horror movie. He hated these kinds of movies, always getting bored within the first five minutes especially since the ending was obvious. And the effects, no matter how good the creators tried to make them to be – and failed at that most of the time because no major studio actually invested in these things anymore – looked beyond fake as far as he was concerned. 

However, his adorable genius – who sometimes dreamt in code and in binary – seemed to be finding the lame effects quite good. The younger man had sunk in his chair as much as he could without outright passing through it and had dug his nails in the armrest so hard and deep that James was sure he’d be taking a half-chair/half-human.

“We can go, if you want,” he whispered when he heard Q’s breath hitch and saw him start to turn from white to a pale shade of green. “The movie is dull and—”

A jump-scare had Q grabbing to his arm, hiding his face in his chest. “Yes, yes, very dull. I think we should leave right now.” The ghost on the screen let out low, scratchy noise and Q was now fully in his lap, shaking slightly. “I also think I am coming down with a cold.”

Afraid that Q would manage to get an actual heart attack, James put his arm around him and got up, thinking of all the ways he could kill Eve for this stunt. Not physically kill her, but dump a task on her that was so boring, she’d think three times before setting up this kind of lame trap in the future.

“I’ll buy the tickets next week and make sure that they aren’t for a horror movie, I promise,” he said before he could stop himself and he felt Q nodding fast, still pushed up against him.

“It’s not that the movie scared me, honestly,” Q whimpered, trying his best to sound though and failing miserably, especially since he was still shivering. “I just find them to be in bad taste.”

James nodded, chuckling and rubbing Q’s arm, pushing him closer to his chest. “Everything is okay, Q; you don’t have to explain yourself. I agree with you in that these types of movies are in bad taste and make sure that I will have words with Miss Moneypenny about this.”

“Oh, please don’t, Professor Bond,” Q said quickly, stopping and looking up at him in such a way that he could ask for anything and James would bend over backwards to make it so.

“I’ll just tell her never to get us tickets for horror movies if you call me ‘James’,” he said slowly, pushing the hair off of Q’s forehead and arranging his glasses. “Can I offer you a cup of relaxing tea before taking you home?”

Q smiled and nodded and as far as James was concerned, all was good in the world. They slowly made their way to a tea house, still glued to each other, whispering about this movie and that book, James making bad jokes – and telling himself that he should stop that because that was what he did when he hit on someone – and openly rolling his eyes and asking how was it that a literature teacher could even think of lines like that without cringing. 

“It’s the shock value that lands me wins,” James joked and Q laughed. “Really, I became a walking contradiction and thus, more interesting and a must have for the people who interest me.”

They stopped in front of the tea house, a small, private building that had dim lighting around it and pleasant, relaxing music coming from inside. “James, do I interest you?” Q whispered, his green eyes looking golden now, licking his lips as the tip of their noses almost touching.

He answered Q with a move, one that caught both of them by surprise. They stared at each other for a second, their lips connected, until Q’s eyes flickered shut and he pushed closer, running his tongue over James’ lower lip. His lips parted automatically and his insides caught on fire when he felt Q’s tongue brush shyly against his, the younger man’s sweet and minty taste invading his mouth.

Q moaned and James completely lost mind, taking his glasses off and deepening the kiss, hugging him tighter. The world and its rules had disappeared around them and for that single moment, James thought themselves outside of times. He could only hear their ragged breathing, feel only Q’s warmth and his body as he rubbed against him and clawed at his back, taste only him, and think of only the pleasure that they could make each feel.

The need of air is what separated them and they sat hunched against each other, panting and feeling dizzy. “James,” Q breathed out, tugging at his shirt. “James,” he said again, this time with a plea in is voice and since he was a slave to Q whims and wishes, bent down and started to nibble on his lips, licking and pecking them.

But reality finally settled back in and James pulled away, no matter how much he hated it and no matter how much he was bothered by Q’s whimper and disgruntled grumbles. “I am your teacher,” he said weakly. 

“I’ll drop your class faster than you can blink,” Q promised. “I’ll take two more in its place and get enough credits to pass this year.”

James cupped Q’s face, brushing his thumbs against his lower lip, smiling sadly. “And have to visit you in the hospital because you overworked yourself?” He tugged him forward and kissed his nose, resting their foreheads together. “Miss Moneypenny was the one who graded your paper and it will be she who will continue to do so until you are done with the university.”

“If you’re afraid that you’ll get in trouble with the headmistress, we can hide and—”

He put his index finger against Q’s lips, shushing him. “I am not in the habit of treating my lovers like dirty little secrets, Q. And you will be bothered by it, just as I would, and we’d grow to hate what we have and someone will catch us and spread rumours about how you passed my class and your career as a student will end.”

Q’s green eyes were filled with disappointment and sadness but he nodded, moving at an arm’s length away from him – James instantly felt cold at that and the world’s colours dimmed and became paler. “I think it would be for the best to skip the tea. And I can walk alone back to the campus.”

James nodded, giving Q’s glasses back. “I can arrange for someone else to tutor you if you still feel the need for it and I plead with you to not drop my course up until the year is over if you still feeling like doing so.”

“That won’t be necessary, Professor Bond. I am sure that my family will be able to assist me with this as I’ve already caused enough troubles for you and almost cost your job.” Q’s voice wasn’t cold, just hollow and James really wanted nothing else than to gather the younger man in his arms and kiss him until both of their lips became numb. “I will not drop your course as I’ve grown to enjoy it, unless you want me to drop it?”

James quickly shook his head. “You dropping out of my class is the last thing I want you to do. And while I might end up being on probation if anyone were to catch us while I was still your teacher, but I am more bothered about what could happen to you.” Ignoring all common sense that told him to stay where he was, he cupped Q’s face and felt the man relax under his touch. “This is why this cannot happen. At least, not yet.” He placed a kiss on Q’s cheek and pulled away.

“I understand that, James, do not worry. And again, thank you for giving me your time and tonight.” He glanced up at him and gave him a small, sad smile before turning and slowly starting to walk away. “Good night, Professor Bond.”

That was when James realized that he was a masochist at hear because instead of looking away, he just sat there and stared at him, imagining himself going after him and pulling him into a cab. He even dreamt about it, waking up just as half naked Q threw himself on his bed, slowly dragging his hands down his chest, moaning his name.

“Get me black coffee,” he growled when he stepped into his office, Eve watching him in that eternally amused way of hers.

“Was somebody up all night because they got lucky with the new French teacher that’s been practically throwing herself at you for the past month?” She asked and James just threw his empty back on his desk, almost tearing the doors off of the locker where he kept graded papers and lesson plans, starting to shove things blindingly in his bag. 

“That explains why you went for a horror movie instead of any of the other movies that were playing last night,” he grumbled. This was for the first time in his life that he actually felt truly annoyed by the woman and her attitude. “From here on out, you will grade everything Mister Boothroyd turns in for my class. And I do so hope you didn’t already talk with anyone about my impromptu date last night because I have no idea about what French teacher you’re talking about.”

Eve threw herself against the door before he could disappear through it, watching him with narrowed eyes. “What does Q have to do with any of this? Why are you suddenly calling him that again? Bond, what did you do?”

He fell in love. “The tickets I asked you to buy last night were for myself and Mister Boothroyd, something that I erroneously thought to be more than obvious especially since I told you not too long ago that he asked to go see a movie with me if he aced his exam.”

The woman thought for a moment and then clicked her tongue, starting to massage her temples. “You’ll give me an aneurysm one of these days, Bond, because I thought he was joking or that you’d have more of a brain than to actually do that. Had I known—”

“Let me cut this short for you, Eve,” he interrupted her because he was getting his own headache and was not in the mood to put up with being scolded. “I simply pointed out that he is a student and that I am his teacher, but this all happened after we made out like two horny teachers and he offered to either become my hidden ‘mistress’ or quit my class this late in the year.” He waited a few moments for Eve to say something, but she just stared at him like he had grown a third head. “So I will, once again, ask you not to let it slip to anyone that might whisper in the headmistress’ ear that Mister Boothroyd and I have finally been on an actual date last night, even if it was a mistake.”

He walked as slowly as it was humanly possible without throwing oneself on the ground and outright starting to crawl like a snail, hands cold as he gripped the door knob. His breath hitched and his heart stopped when he saw the younger man’s usual seat occupied by someone else and he looked around the room, unable to greet the students until he spotted the hunched over figure with the familiar mop of messy, brown hair that put silk to shame in the back on the class, on the last row.

“We’ll do something a bit different today, class.” They all started to groan and beg, students in general automatically assuming that every change wanted by a teacher meant that the world was about to end. “This will all land you an extra credit which you will be able to add to any of your grades, except the major exams, and all you have to do is participate in the rollcall,” he said louder and then suddenly everyone was clapping and cheering except for Q who looked confusedly at him. 

Rollcall was complete, James was semi-satisfied that he got to hear Q’s voice, made a mental note that it was a bit scratchy and he wondered if the man had either cried –eyes weren’t puffy or red and he was sure of this because he had gone out of his way to walk around the classroom – or he was coming down with a cold. 

His tutoring lessons were, of course, cancelled, Q notifying him of that via extremely official written e-mail to Miss Moneypenny. Cold, but expected since it was more than clear that Q was struggling with his feelings just as he did. When they happened to pass by each other in the hallway, they did their best not to stare but small smiles were present on their lips for anyone to see if they knew what they were supposed to be looking for. Busy hallways were Bond’s favourite as they gave them a good excuse to brush against each other – most of the times it really was accidental.

Eve got stuck playing the messenger between them on some occasions and although she claimed not to care, it was obvious she regretted buying the tickets that caused all of this and made sure to add extra information whenever she passed James information from Q. 

She’d say: “He’s rolling his eyes at this play and his new tutor is exasperated with him,” and then add: “He looked healthy and he was eating a sandwich/bagel/bag of junk food and he turned a bit red when he asked how you were doing.”

And James would start ranting to her, going so far one time that she ended up writing things down and outright bringing back a letter – he had asked countless little things without thinking, if he saw this or that movie, if he tried the new tea house that had opened on campus, what had happened to his favourite cardigan, and if he had adopted that cat he saw him feeding while running late for a meeting with the headmistress. 

“Do either one of you know how to use a bloody phone?” Eve asked, throwing crumbled paper at his head. “Wait, scratch that; you two would accidentally end up sexting and not realize it, just like your dating.”

She was partially right, of course, but James wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of confirming that. “We could start using carrier pigeons, but it with be your task to feed them and clean up after—”

Eve threw her pen at his head. “Why would that be my job? If you do that, I’ll dump everything they dump in your bed,” she promised and James shivered because he knew she would really do that. 

She continued to be their Mercury up until the summer break, when she brought James a letter from Q that said his family had decided to reward him for his high marks by sending him to Japan from the break, to relax and to attend conventions on the latest improvements in technology.

Summer passed in the blink of an eye and James returned to a second year roster without Q in it, a desk full of postcards, a keychain of a samurai, a bottle of sake, and an English version of The Pillow Book. But that wasn’t all that was in his office, Eve looking warily at a woman dressed in a dark blue suit that seemed unable to look away from her phone.

“If you have anything for Q, I will be more than happy to deliver it to you.” The woman paused her buttoning and gave James a look-over, smirking and then focusing back on her phone. “I am an employee of a relative of Q’s as well as a friend of his, so do not worry about Mrs. Olivia finding out.” He held out her phone and showed James a picture of herself and Q dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. “You may call me Jana.” 

James frowned, the reference not lost on him. “Miss Jana, what makes you think that I would have something for Q—I mean, for Mister Boothroyd?”

The woman grinned, pointing towards the heavy gift bag James had. “The new necklace around Miss Moneypenny’s neck tells me that you have already brought you assistant a gift and the little stack of identical magnets next to her tells me that those are the gifts for the rest of your esteemed colleagues. I don’t smell food so…” She trailed off and chuckled, looking up at him. “I am afraid certain habits of certain people have rubbed off on me and I must apologize for knowing more than I should.” She looked as apologetic as Eve did most of the times. 

James held out the bag to her. “Send my greetings to Q’s cousins when you see them,” he said with a grin which the woman was more than happy to return. “And tell him that I am saddened and yet pleased that he’s not going to be in my class this year.”

He couldn’t wait for the opening ceremony to begin, even putting his best suit on. But he didn’t see Q there and the man didn’t show up in his office afterwards either. The same thing happened the next day and upon a bit of snooping around on behalf of Eve, James found out that the younger man had come down with a really bad cold and was confined to his room by his family doctor until he felt better. 

James was at Q’s door with a bough chicken soup the second all of his classes was over, consequences be damned. And Q was not happy when he saw him. “Professor Bond, what are you doing here?” He hissed when he finally opened the door, bundled up and looking like he was a sneeze away from turning into a ghost. “You’ll get sick.”

Worrying even more, James threw what little caution he had into the wind and pushed his cheek against Q’s forehead. “And you shouldn’t be out of bed because you’re burning up.”

“How the bloody hell am I supposed to open the door without getting out of bed?” Q grumbled and started to shuffle away from him, coughing. “If you are here because of all the work I missed, I assure you that my new classes won’t cause me any trouble as all of them are in my area of expertise.”

“I am not here for that,” he called out from the doorway. “I’ve brought you soup and teas that I’ve been told help with colds. So, can I come in not as your teacher, but as someone that’s worried for you because—?”

Q rushed to cover his mouth, poking his head out the door to make sure that no one was around to see or hear them. “Do you want the headmistress to appear out of nowhere?”

James shook his head again, taking Q’s hand away from his mouth. “But even if she did, there really isn’t anything she could do against us. You’re not my student and all of your papers have been graded by Eve. Now, can I come in before the soup turns cold or do you want me to leave the soup behind alongside the pills and hope Miss Jana drops by?” 

“I’d rather have you as my nurse,” Q muttered and rested against him. “If you see a fat man through the peephole, don’t open the door.”

He was making as much sense a sick man could. “I won’t let the fat man get you, Q, don’t worry,” James promised as he helped Q lie back down in bed, pulling the covers over him and then starting to clean the small room a little. “I’m not sure pizza and Chinese food were the best options when…” He trailed off when he heard Q’s light snoring, turning around to run his hand through his sweaty hair. 

Q slept unturned for one hour, time in which James sat at the man’s desk and read the book he had been gifted with, only thing he could do not to start to poke his nose around or be a creep and stare at him sleeping – though he turned every now and then when he though his breathing was too heavy.

“Oh, I thought I dreamed,” Q whispered, starting to cough when he tried to sit up. “You’ll get in trouble if they find you here.”

Pulling Q to his chest and fluffing the two pathetic pillows the man had, he helped him sit up right before turning to the microwave to heat up the soup. “You’re no longer in my class, remember? And even if you still were, you’re very sick and leaving you alone right now is more than a horrible idea.”

“I smell,” he whined. “My room smells and it’s too bright,” he whined again, pulling the covers over his head. “I’m a handful when I am sick, so you’d best leave me be unless you want all of your interest in me to disappear.”

Patting the grouchy lump, James chuckled. “Darling, if someone loses interest when you are at your worst, they do not deserve to have you at your best.” Bloodshot eyes peeked at him from under the covers and James couldn’t helped but lean forward and kissing his forehead.

Q disappeared under the covers again. “I’m sticky.” 

And he was in love, so he didn’t see where the problem was. “And probably hungry, so eat first and we’ll try to find a way around your current predicament.” By the time Q finished his soup – one hour later – he was tempted to pack him up and take him back to his apartment but someone knocking on the door got in the way of him asking Q if he would agree to that.

“Don’t open the door,” Q pleaded, holding on tightly to his arm. “My headache will only get worse if you do, trust— Bloody hell, I forgot he has a key.” In a very strange move, he tried to throw the covers over James just as the door opened. “Give me the key back and go away, Mycroft.”

“I am happy to see you too, darling cousin,” the stranger said in a tired voice, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s also a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mister Bond. Q has been dancing around naming you for more than a year and my assistant was very lengthy in her description of you.”

Putting the covers back around Q, James positioned himself between the two. “Oh, he was the fat man Q was just talking about.”

Mycroft let out a long, suffering sigh. “I blame Sherlock for this, but you could have picked worse habits from brother mine, so I am not really upset.” He tapped James’ shoulder with his umbrella, trying to get him to step aside – but James refused to budge. “I’d like to take care of my sick cousin, if you don’t mind.” 

James glanced at Q and the young man frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think he wants that so show yourself out.”

“See, I did just that a week ago and here he is, about to cough himself into the afterlife,” Mycroft pointed out, tutting. “So you will excuse me if I won’t listen to the ramblings of a feverish man and march him to the car before his pneumonia gets worse.” 

“You don’t know for sure that it’s pneumonia,” Q wheezed out, his words giving way to a coughing fit.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, giving James an almost pleading look – which, something told him, was the most show of emotion he was ever going to get from him. So with a bit of convincing on his part and a promise on Mycroft that he wouldn’t have James fired, arrested, and – not or, and – sent to teach snowmen in the Antarctica, Q agreed to go to the hospital where, surprise, it was revealed that he indeed had pneumonia. 

“I am not sure that looking smug is the best look to have when someone is this sick,” James muttered as he watched the nurses hooking Q up to an IV.

“Mister Bond, I worry constantly when I do not have them in my sight.” He tapped the floor with the tip of his umbrella. “But here, in the hospital, where I have the best doctors looking after them and security cameras telling me what they are doing, I can focus on something else, such as a man eleven years Q’s senior seeking to have a relationship with him.”

James braced himself.


	19. Bambi and his treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. Even the Quartermaster gets downtime after missions, especially after ones that end with him going in the field to save a certain agent’s ass. James follows because he knows Q is hurt and he can't seem to keep away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet anonymous asked for our two favorite lovebirds to know each other since childhood, cute nicknames (I tried), and a stuffed animal.
> 
> Please enjoy <3

His younger friend was holding on to his arm tightly. “It’s getting dark,” he muttered, struggling to keep up with him. “Bambi, let’s go back before the wolves get us,” he pleaded, looking up at him with vivid green eyes that were on the verge of tears.

 

How strange that his treasure would be scared of wolves when he was holding a little bear dressed for bad weather. Maybe it was because the bear was missing his little red hat? Or maybe it was because the small animal was clinging to his scared treasure instead of growling back at the wolves?

 

Well, it didn't really matter because  _he_  wasn't afraid of anything. Especially of things that lived in his own forest! He was the future lord of this land and everything, in his mind, was supposed to respect him and his friend and damn it, he wasn’t going to let an overgrown dog keep them away from the pretty place he just _knew_ without a doubt that his treasure of words and knowledge would love.

 

So he tapped his scared treasure's forehead gently because he was sure that was going to get all those worries and silly thoughts out of his mind right before he hugged him close to his chest. "Don't worry," he whispered and held his own head high, even as he started to hear growling and the sun suddenly disappeared from the sky. “I’m here so nothing bad will happen to us.”

 

“You promise?” His friend sniffled, digging his little fists in his shirt.

 

He grinned and ruffled his hair. “I promise, treasure.” But even as he said that, a strong wind ripped the younger boy away from his arms and no matter how fast he ran, he wasn’t able to catch up to him. "Give him back!" He ordered the wind that just continued to carry his friend further away from him and then he tripped on the body of a stag and fell down a dark hole that just kept on getting deeper and deeper. When he finally reached the bottom of the pit and blinked, surprised that he wasn't dead, he realized that he was staring up at a white ceiling, his body wracked with pain and his head feeling like it was a second away from exploding. “What happened?”

 

He didn’t actually expect anyone to answer, but someone did. “Agent, we’re going to need you to remain calm,” that certain someone whose voice was unfamiliar said as they placed their hands on his chest. Of course, the sure way to make someone start to panic was to tell them to remain calm because never, not once in the entirety of his life, was he told to keep his cool because of something good.

 

“Where am I?” He growled, shaking the hands off of him and trying to crawl away in the direction he thought he saw something that resembled a door. “Who are you? What have you done to me?”

 

 “007, you are safe,” the stranger insisted. “There is no need for you to be hostile or to be worried as all of your targets have been neutralized and the Quartermaster flew you back to London.”

 

The mention of that title calmed him down somewhat, enough to get back his memories of the previous night and then panic overcame him once again. “Where's Q?” He breathed out, pushing away the persons that were trying to get him back to bed because the last thing he remembered was a terrified boffin covered in blood – that didn’t come from the man who wasn’t even supposed to be that far away from the safety of the MI6 hidden compound, he hoped – struggling to drag his wounded ass behind a car while the five remaining henchmen were shooting at them. “Where's my Quarter—”

 

“Right here,” Q said in a tired voice and appeared in front of him out of nowhere, huge bags under his eyes, face green, and hair messier than usual. "We're both safe, so let's calm down, okay?" James nodded and he helped him lean on him, turning himself into a living crutch and signalled the doctors and nurses and security guards to go away because he had him. His Quartermaster, no matter what, always had him. “As a favour to me, Bond, please be cooperative with the medical staff for once in your life and get back in the bed before you pop open any of your stitches.”

 

“I may tease you about—”

 

“Bond, I am tired, I was forced to board a plane that I swear was a sneeze away from falling apart with a bloody agent who kept rambling about wolves,” his Quartermaster cut him off and reminded the agent that he had more than sufficient strength to at least lift him for a few seconds and put him in a bed, even if he was panting hard and shaking from every muscle in his body, “and I miss my cats and my own bed. You're safe, England is safe, and the world is safe. So stay here until you heal, okay?”

 

The second his back touched the bed, IVs were stuck in his arms and James felt a numbness and a calmness wash over him that were clearly drug induced. “I’ll stay here like a good agent as long as you are unscratched and safe,” he slurred and was rewarded with a rare honest smile from Q.

 

“I admit to having a scratch on my shoulder,” he quickly unbuttoned the white shirt that clearly wasn’t his because it was a size too big and a few colours short of his usual pick to show him the bandage, grabbing his hand before James could touch it, “but completely unharmed otherwise and more than safe.”

 

James squeezed his hand – or tried to as his brain and muscles were already not speaking with each other due to the drugs – and tried to chuckle when Q moved to tuck him in. “Do I get a kiss on the forehead and a nice bedtime story?”

 

Q rolled his eyes, but pulled a chair close to his bed – he was moving somewhat sluggish, clutching the piece of plastic tight and struggling not to bite his lips for some reason – despite his earlier indication of wanting to go home. “You’ll have to charm a nurse or doctor into giving you a kiss, but I am more than happy to tell you a story.” Like magic, a folder appeared on his lap and he cleared his throat, arranging his glasses as he opened it. “This will be a _long_ story of all the equipment you managed to destroy this time,” he deadpanned, his sweet smile gone in a blink of an eye, the kindness and concern in his voice replaced by pure ice.

 

He was out like a light by the time Q was done reading the first row, but his Quartermaster did not resent him for it. Instead, he allowed himself another soft smile and he dared to gently run the back of his hand down his face, thankful when the doctor took a step towards him and started to whisper about how the agent would pull through this without any permanent damage or scars.

 

It was common knowledge by then that 007 was Q’s special agent for whom he’d make the sun rise from the west and set in the east if he were asked. And the same could be said about James, Q being the only boffin who could scold him, who could get him to calm down, who could get him to listen to reason even when he saw nothing but red in front of his eyes and all other voices were drowned out by pure rage, and the only man on earth who he fully trusted with his life.

 

As a result of their co-depended relationship to which neither openly admitted, heaven have mercy if either of them were hurt, for both would disregard logic and their own safety – as evidenced by the recent mission when Q sent every member of his security team to hell and rushed to be by James’ side because newly discovered information proved that the agent was walking into a trap – and the people who had been unlucky enough to inflict damage to which ever would not be so lucky as to find themselves in the sweet embrace of Death any time soon.

 

Again, Q was the reason why James never stayed for too long away from MI6 and everyone suspected that Q wasn’t stressed when that happened because the agent made sure to inform the head boffin of his whereabouts, how long he was staying, and whom his temporary companion was. And if anyone had a doubt about that, all they had to do was glance at the huge number of badly hidden postcards that Q had pinned on a wall in his office, next to the projects he was most proud of.

 

“Is my Quartermaster off-duty and resting as he should be?” James asked the empty room when he regained his consciousness again, managing to supress his instinct to break into a mad run for the friend without an actual face but with teary eyes from his nightmare. “Or is he being his usual naughty boffin and forgot all about his bed?” He added when the doctor came into his line of sight, smiling cheekily at her. "By the way, your perfume is too strong."

 

“Unlike a certain agent,” she started, ignoring his last comment and being less than gently with her check-up, “the Quartermaster can actually listen to a doctor’s advice and he is getting his recommended rest.” James smiled. “But not at his home.” His smile dropped because he always worried that one day, he might wake up to him gone for good just like everyone else in his life. “He's on a small getaway at an MI6 approved and closely watched cottage in Norfolk, so calm down before you either have a heart attack or break the heart monitor."

 

Knowing that relaxed him a little, but made him shiver in disgust. He was in no way picky about vacation places as he himself often wasted his downtime in honest to god hellholes, but when it came to Q, he was an outright snob. “I would think that Q would deserve something better than that, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

The doctor shrugged. “It is not my business to comment on where the Quartermaster wishes to spend his free time or with whom.” His initial question about the latter part of her statement was forgotten when she stuck a needle in his stomach in a sadistic way, looking like she regretted that she couldn’t inflict more pain. “And I think the same should apply to you.”

 

There were no shortage of people who had more than a bone to pick with James, especially in the Medical department since he game them more than a hard time and he tended to ‘borrow’ from their medicinal reserves, but he got the feeling that there was something more personal about in the woman’s lack of bedside manners.

 

He flinched a little when she emptied the contents of the syringe in him but was quick to vacate the bed when she moved away from him, starting to dress himself. “I am only worried about his safety and his health, as you should be since you are a doctor and everything.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “It is nothing but a scratch, 007, which is a lot more than I can say for what you have.” She held out the chart to him, but he ignored it in favour of buttoning up his shirt.

 

“Well, in that case, wouldn’t you agree that I need lots of fresh air and rest somewhere where you know for sure that no rusty nails stick out of the wall?” He asked, already trying to convince Eve to tell him where _exactly_ Q was because MI6 unfortunately did not have a shortage of cheap cottages in Norfolk with good Wi-Fi reception.

 

***

 

Q sighed, turning his eyes away from the happy couple that was enjoying their dinner at the table across from his. Jealousy and admitted loneliness would only make his food taste bitter and his wine - which he couldn't order because of his medicine - taste like water, he reminded himself. Especially since he had brought the latter upon himself when he agreed to become the Quartermaster – though, he didn’t have much of a love life or sex life before going legal either, always having to be suspicious of those who showed interest in him since he knew what honeypot missions were and he knew so many organizations who would be more than willing to throw escorts of all sexes at him if they could only control him.

 

Still, he had to admit that things became harder once he involved himself with MI6. On one hand, there was the official team created to offer him full security. Men and women who dedicated each minute of their working hours to ensure that the person who served him coffee didn’t try to poison him and that the one bringing him his magazines or newspaper didn’t also try to sneak in a bomb or two. So this rendered going out with his civilian friends in busy places without so much as a two hour notice was out of the question and the only reason why it was possible to do so with MI6 or/and MI5 ones brought him to the other hand – the unofficial one that was named James Bond.

 

Here things got very complicated because Q was human and James was hot and very obviously territorial when it came to him. If his normal security detail would ignore the people who showed interest in him on the dance floor as long as they passed their digital security check, the agent wasn’t as kind. He’d put the would be ‘suitors’ through some tests that most of them failed because no one wanted to have to deal with the huge headache James promised to be just to spend a few hours with Q.

 

And then there was the fact that Q and James—

 

“I’ve had sand in my mouth that was better coffee than what they served me here.” In the fashion of speak – or think – of the devil and he would come knocking, Q’s train of thoughts was completely derailed by James suddenly sitting across the table from him, flipping through the menu. “I shudder to think what tea you were forced to drink here.”

 

“You never cease to amaze me with how fast you recover, Bond,” Q said smoothly, fingers flying across the keyboard, searching for any file or indication that the agent was on a mission. “Have you managed to stumble your way into another unofficial mission so fast after getting released from Medical? I am pretty sure that you’re still wearing the bandages done by Nurse Hilda.”

 

Careful not to actually hurt Q’s fingers, James closed his laptop. “You asked me to be cooperative for once in my life and that I was, more than happy to enter my downtime and not go searching for any trouble.” His smile dropped then, eyes glistering with worry.

 

“My arm is fine,” Q assured him quickly, touching his shoulder carefully. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and the bullet only grazed me." He rested his head in the palm of his hand, frowning. "That's one of the many downsides of a bulletproof _vest';_ it doesn't cover too much," he grumbled. "I should really find a way to invent a Kevlar suit and gloves for you agents. Maybe find a way to cover your heads with it as well—”

 

James tapped his forehead gently, surprised by how familiar that felt. “I appreciate how hard you are working to protect us living guns, Q, but you are on vacation.” He made sure that Q saw him pull a face as he looked around. “Or on a self-imposed exile in an oversized doghouse; I am not quite sure yet.”

 

Q snorted, shaking his head. “It’s afford—it’s picturesque Bond,” he said quickly in a bad attempt to cover up why he really chose this place over others and James’ metaphorical feathers got even more ruffled because MI6 should be throwing money at Q by now and pay him an elephant’s weight in gold. “I don’t ask you this very often because you rarely do it, but what are you thinking about, Bond? You're making that face that always gets _me_ in trouble.”

 

About kidnapping him and taking him to the Isle of Skye, but that would probably end with him on Q’s blacklist. But trying to convince him to switch vacation spots out of his own free will was a different story. “Of other places that are far more colourful and more interesting than here, but alas! My Quartermaster has a certain taste and I am not in the habit of forcing people into doing anything, even if it is in their best.” He stole the cup of tea that was placed in front of Q, shivering as he took a sip. “This is nothing if simply insulting, Q. The place I have in mind makes better tea and for free.”

 

Q snatched his cup back, grumbling. “Bond, don’t even bother trying. I like it here,” he said with just enough hesitation in his voice to convince Bond to he needed to push just a bit more without being too annoying to get him to see the light of reason. “And your opinion when it comes to tea does not count for you hate even my best tea.” He struggled so hard not to make a face when he took a sip and failed miserably which lead to James wanting to replace the horrible taste Q surely had in his mouth with a far better one – his. “Oh, I couldn’t act even for a guaranteed Oscar that this tea was decent. I feel as if it is an insult to even the subpar ones you used to buy for me from vending machines when you wanted something. But even so, Bond, I will not be let you check me in an expensive hotel just because.”

 

James leaned closer a bit and grabbed Q’s hand, squeezing it as gently as he could. “I wonder if you’ll ever let me repay you for everything you do for me, Q.”

 

He expected Q to pull his hand away and scoff at him, but the man surprised him by relaxing and allowing his hold on him to remain. “The only real way you can do that is by coming back from a mission without so much as a scratch and with all of your equipment in a pristine condition.”

 

“Alas, I am a double oh agent, not a miracle worker,” James joked, winking while Q looked surprised at him. “One doesn’t have to be a boffin, nerd, or geek to enjoy Star Trek.” In reality, he only really started to watch it after Eve had explained what Q meant when he called himself a ‘red shirt’ prior to going on a mission with the newcomer 004, and deciding that he had to do everything in his power to prove to the man that he would never be the first one to die a horrible death in an alien situation – and failing so far, the sight of the bandages wrapped around his shoulder firmly implanted in his mind.

 

“I am more surprised that you didn’t start saying ‘captain’s log’ as you remind me more of Kirk than anyone else.” Q gave him a little smile and then turned his attention to the waitress, placing his order.

 

When the woman turned towards him, all smiles and bats of eyelashes, James made sure to move next to Q – not too close to truly invade the man’s personal space, but close enough to subtly hint at the fact that he was not interested in her. “Whatever he had and I guarantee a generous tip for both you and the cook if both our orders have as little fat and oil as possible.”

 

“Bond, don’t antagonize or belittle the people who handle our food,” Q hissed. “I really don’t want to take any more pills than I already am.”

 

At the mention of pills, it was as if someone had hit James over the head with a bat covered in rusty nails. “How many pills are you taking? Why are you taking those pills? Just how serious—?

 

His rant was interrupted by Q shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. “The doctor was worried that the wound might get infected due the conditions I was forced to fly back in the country with open wounds...” he trailed off and looked very happy to be presented with a bowl of soup – that didn't smell as bad as James thought it would and it actually looked good, damn it – so he could avoid elaborating on why he had used the plural when James was only aware of one wound.

 

“I have all day and even more to hear the way that little story ends, Q,” James sing-sang, slowly eating his own soup despite his instinct to simply grab the bowl and drink it because he had only had a sandwich alongside five cups of coffee which Q would argue that they were, in fact, 'not food'.

 

“Well, I am happy for you, but I do not regret to inform you that I am done talking about work until I am back in the office and I think that I shall forget what I wanted to say earlier and what happened on that mission,” Q shot back in a teasing manner. “So off you go, back to your posh hotel before you turn into dust for being in a place like this without a drop dead gorgeous woman as medicine for your wounds.”

 

James thought that he had something a lot better than that sort of medicine and namely Q himself. “What if I want something else for my—”

 

Q stuffed another piece of bread in James’ mouth, eye twitching. “I will honestly want you gone if you do not stop this right here, Bond. And that would really be a shame because you truly are my favourite agent despite all the shite you pull.”

 

With a threat like that, innuendo was aborted and ten minutes of the lunch were enjoyed in hungry silence and hidden glee at being unofficially named Q’s favourite. And James would have been more than happy to just share a meal and no words with his favourite boffin, Quartermaster, ally, and person in the entire world, but the planets were aligned in such a way that Q was actually inclined to make conversation with him.

 

“For all the food you drop on my table because you claim to have ordered too much, it is clear to me as daylight that you didn’t eat anything today.” Make conversation, scold him for not taking care of himself as usual even though he was not related to him nor his doctor, it was all the same to James. “Should I dare ask if you’re following what Medical told you?”

 

James thought of his glove compartment that was stuffed full of old pills, old prescriptions, and guns reported lost but weren’t quite that. “I thought that you didn’t want to talk about work.”

 

Q clicked his tongue, drumming his fingers on the table. “I am not, Bond. I am talking about your wellbeing. So, since you are as stubborn as usual, I will call—”

 

He leaned over the table and rested his hand on top of the one that Q had over his phone. “I will follow what they said this time for as long as I am in your presence,” he promised, trying to get Q to allow him to stay as much as he could stomach him. “And if you do not want to talk about your wounds, then neither do I about my own. So let’s talk about the weather instead.”

 

Q hummed, licking his lips before using a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I am saddened that you think we have in common only our work and wounds, Bond. Is there really nothing else you think we can talk about?”

 

Oh, he thought they could talk about a lot. He _knew_ they could talk about a lot as they often did when they went out drinking, Q always having a sour throat the following day because of the music he had to talk over. But when they were in those places, it didn’t matter if Q sent him away because he was safe and unharmed, but now… His fingers twitched and he had to force himself not to pull Q in his lap and look at his wounds himself and try to will them into healing faster.

 

“Should I take this as an open invitation to poke my nose in your private life, Q?” James finally asked and pushed what was left of his second bowl of soup in front of Q, regretting that he took a sip of the stale and burned coffee that had been served to him.

 

“It is a rare opportunity, Bond, so you’d do best not to waste it.” James wondered if Q was aware that this was the equivalent of presenting a harmless lamb to a slaughter house because he was dying to know everything and so much more.

 

But alas, he was like a child that had been given a million pounds and tossed in a candy shop and he didn’t know where to start. Drinking and food was not needed as he knew that from work and from when he joined him on the outings – he had a low tolerance for alcohol and got Chinese because it was cheap, but he had to be careful not to get anything too spicy because his stomach was sensitive. He could ask him about his name! Or _all_ of his hobbies and what was it that he liked besides paintings and plays and cardigans and loose suits!

 

“How are your cats?” He eventually asked, casually and collected, but mentally kicking himself for picking that out of everything.

 

Even Q looked confused, blinking slowly much like an owl would. “Helping MI6 cut the mice and rat populations in half. Miss Moneypenny offered to take care of them, but she constantly has to deal with tomcats in heath while at work so I didn’t want to burden her with the same problem when she’s free.”

 

James grinned, drumming his fingers on the table. “Am I one of those tomcats that you are referring to, Q?”

 

Signalling the waiter to bring the bill, Q nodded. “The head tomcat even and don’t act innocent because you know how many times I’ve been ‘blessed’ with accidentally turning on the camera while you were on a mission because I thought you were in danger, only to get a face-full of your naked ass and the sight of a vampire attached to your neck.”

 

He never did that on purpose, out of respect for Q and his temporary bed partner, but sometimes certain words just slipped out of his mouth when his control was lost to the heath of the moment. At least his partners understood that they were not in his bed for the long run and the ones he shared his bed every now and then teased him about his slip of tongue, hazarding a guess about how the letter he called to might look like.

 

“You call my partners vampires, but might I ask what you’re interested in? What tickles your feathers?” He quickly grabbed the only piece of bread that was left on the table, Q ending up grabbing his arm. “I am quite full, but thank you for your worry, Quartermaster.” He also grabbed the check the second it touched the table, dropping it when Q flinched in his attempt to grab it back.

 

“I'm okay,” Q breathed out, slowly sitting back down in his seat, eyes shut tight. “Just a bit of pain and nothing else,” he insisted despite the fact that he was clearly tearing up for how intense the feeling was.

 

James grabbed Q's bag and started to dig through it, reading off the names from the bottle of pills until Q nodded, the waiter smart enough to bring a tall glass of cold water without being asked. “Your bag weights a ton, Q,” James said matter-of-factly, sitting right next to the wounded man once again and carefully packing Q's laptop.

 

“I am not daft, Bond,” Q mumbled, glasses off his face so he could pinch the bridge of his nose, hoping that a bit of pain from another part of  his body would distract him enough until the painkillers kicked in.  “I am using my other shoulder to carry everything around.”

 

James scoffed. “You'll be using me until that shoulder of yours is _fully_  healed.”

 

Q tried to argue but once James set his mind on something, there was no way to get him to change it, especially if it involved his wounded Quartermaster. He waited until the wave of pain passed and once Q stopped scrunching up his face, he got up and waited for Q to do the same, unable to hold back a groan when he saw him pull a crutch from under the table that he somehow missed even though he had been sitting right next to him, and leaned on it. "Bond, don't-"

 

“How in God's name did you hold me back then if you’re like this?" James demanded as he took a step back to really look at Q. Yes, he was right to question himself how it was still a double oh agent if the glaring black, plastic cast with a few bits of something that looked to be electric went completely noticed. "I am very sure that you've only made things harder for yourself back then, or rather, I did." He should get in contact with M as soon as possible and ask to be put back in training if he missed something so bloody obvious.

 

“I’ve had worse when I was a child, Bond, do not worry so much,” Q muttered, brushing his fingers against his leg. “And I was stuffed with morphine back then, so I didn't really feel anything when you leaned on me. Except for the wrath of the doctor,” he added after a moment.

 

James threw Q’s bag over his shoulder and then wrapped an arm around his middle. “I will either carry you or you will use me as your crutch,” he said without any room for argument and Q must have been tired because he leaned his head against his shoulder. “And I’ll stay with you until you get better,” he added slowly, struck again by how familiar and right everything felt, freezing as he struggled to tug on that one memory he knew was buried deep in his mind.

 

“You are infinitely more comfortable than that stick and I do not doubt that you are more than strong enough to carry at least two of me and five of my bags,” he said softly and James thought he felt him smile against him, carefully running his hands down his jacket, “but only when you are fully healed.” He carefully drummed his fingers over where James’ bandages were, tilting his head back to send him a glare. “Understood?”

 

He nodded and then started to leave the small restaurant, cussing every stair he saw. He suggested taking Q to the nice hotel where he had a room and then back to the cottage the younger man rented when he felt him start to pull away, but he was shot down again because Q wanted to hop around and enjoy the pleasant weather, maybe even go to a park and just loiter on a bench, soaking up the sun until it set.

 

Well, Q's wish was his command and he took him to a park where he scared off a bunch of teens that were sitting on the bench that seemed just perfect for his wounded companion – ‘Bond, I know that you are not a guard dog, but since you insist on acting like one I will treat you like one, so be a good boy and heel already’ - and then proceeded to run around to get Q something warm to drink even if he didn't ask for it and could he have the keys to go back to his cottage and bring him a blanket in case he got cold? Or would he better prefer one that was made out of actual wool from his hotel?

 

Q grabbed on to his arm before James could run and probably end up bringing a sofa because the bench was too hard, pushing his face against it to force him to stop squirming “I am fine just the way things are, Bond. You can sit down and keep me company or you can be on your way. And don't think that I am not able to hop and wobble to another park if you continue to blow things our or proportion.”

 

James was sitting by his side even before he could finish the sentence, moving to clutch Q's hand tightly even as he looked emotionlessly in front of himself. “I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable, Q.”

 

Q patted his hand and nodded. “I know that, Bond.” A moment of silence in which they both allowed themselves to relax and then James felt Q tense up a little. “You don’t have to stay with me just because I am hurt, Bond. I have a security detail with me and they will call for the doctor if things get worse.”

 

“I know,” James said, mirroring Q’s earlier actions. “But we’re both in our downtime so I figured we could keep each other company.” And he can ensure that nothing else would happen to Q because the man was an even bigger handful than him when he wanted to and was just as unlucky as he was when it came to stumbling on to dangerous plans.

 

Q cupped his face and made him look him in the eyes. “James Bond, you are not to blame for the _scratches_ that I got, do you understand? I left the safe-house knowing fully well what might happen to me and no bodyguard could have stopped me short of tying me to a chair and knocking me out.”

 

“I know,” James muttered after a moment of deep though, frowning. “But I still want to keep you company and see that you are comfortable, if it is quite alright with you. Maybe by the time we both have to go home, I will get an answer to my earlier question.”

 

Something about Q’s complexion changed for a fraction of a moment – James was tempted to say that he had actually managed to make his Quartermaster blush, something he failed to do even when he accidentally exposed himself to him – and he obviously had to fight back a smile. “Not even a day off of your usual vacation schedule and you are already confusing me with one of your usual companions.”

 

***

 

In the end, James ended up quite liking Q’s cottage. It was small and cosy and the sofa that turned into a bed was very comfortable and only five steps away from Q’s room with a door that was thin enough for him to hear Q sigh in his sleep and mutter light cusses in the morning when the first ray of sun landed on his face because he had forgotten to pull down the blinds – something he was thankful for because it always woke him up before his nightmare about the boy with forest-green eyes managed to get worse.

 

“I’ll close them for you,” James would say, taking a good look at Q’s bare chest and bandaged arm that came with it.

 

“Thank you,” Q muttered in return, pushing his head in the pillow and pulling the covers over his upper half of the body, exposing the very colourful and boffin-esque boxers he used as a substitute for pyjama pants. “Remind me to block out the sun when we get back at MI6.”

 

James drifted towards the talking mop of brown hair, just barely holding back from either pushing his face into it or running his hands through it. “Closing the blinds is a lot less complicated and not at all villainous, my snoring Quartermaster.” Easier still it would be for James to outright sleep in his room and close the blinds for him and then wrap himself around his body in such a way that nothing but air could reach him.

 

Q insisted that James’ wounds be cleaned first as they were a lot more serious than his. In all honestly, he liked it when that happened since Q ended up sitting on his lap, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he devoted his entire concentration to his chest and nothing else. In fact, Q was so lost in cleaning his wounds perfectly that it would have been so easy for James to simply lean forward and steal a kiss and finally find out if he tasted as sweet as he thought Q did or bitter from so much tea, but he didn’t. He wanted Q to _give_ him the kiss and so much more.

 

He did the cooking, not because Q was inept, but because the kitchen was extremely small and he’d constantly bump into the cabinets and table. They did the shopping together, even if it took three times longer than it normally would have and they always ended up snapping at each other over who was supposed to carry the bags. They glared at each other, hands on their hips, bags right under their noses while the store security guards pretended not to see them and the cashier making no attempt at hiding her curiosity and amusement – Q always won because when he mentioned the three bullets that passed clean through _his_ agent’s chest while he was on duty, his eyes got a strange glint of desperation and helplessness that James couldn’t stand to see.

 

“As you well know by now, the walk to the car is short and the bags aren’t heavy,” Q chided him and James scoffed because half of that statement was a complete lie and Q had the marks from the bags’ handles for a good five minutes after everything was stuffed in the trunk. “At least you get to drive.”

 

Because Q didn’t have a driver’s licence and enough of a brain not to insist on driving the car while being mostly invalid if he did. And Q made sure to point this out the first time they went shopping, more than happy to remind James of the time he, after he had finished a mission in collaboration with MI5, had ignored the state of his leg and broke every traffic law in his mad dash to get to Vauxhall because he had heard one of the new agents giving Q a hard time over the coms.

 

In the unfair end of that little miscalculation on the agent’s part, he was the one who got his ear chewed off while being wheeled in Q’s desk chair into Medical. “Am I five? Am I a maiden from a story that needs saving from a cruel dragon or pirate lord?” his Quartermaster had asked, arms crossed over his chest. “If you ever do something as stupid as this again, I will make it my personal goal to retire you and lock you up in a home for the elderly with nurses that are most definitely not to your taste.”

 

But Q’s practicality ended at driving the car and they butted heads when it came to their daily walks because James wanted to _carry_ him around even though his leg was healing beautifully and Q wanted hit him over the head with his satchel every time he suggested that. James would back away and sulk for a few moments before forgetting about that because Q was just too happy wobbling around the vast area of whatever old town or natural reservation they were in, spouting off whatever random - yet interesting, he'd admit that - bit of information he remembered from his last trip there between their small chitchat about this movie or that book, his arm linked with James’.

 

And then the last day of Q’s vacation came and James hated the reality that was now knocking on the door of their lives because Q would go back to his apartment and loyal cats that got to at least share his bed if not outright sleep on him, while he would be forced to go back to his spacious and empty one and steadily lose Q’s smell from his clothes and forget the how Q whined before his first mug of tea.

 

Q noticed him sulking around and erroneously thought that James was upset about having to return to London with _him_. “You can stay here for as long as you want, Bond. You’re not bound to me and I still have the train tickets from the original plan, so you don't have to worry.” He started to throw all of his clothes on the bed, unaware that he was covering James in them.

 

“This place will get boring and cheap the second you leave it,” James explained, starting to pack for Q. “I thought you’d be tidier than this.”

 

“I am tidy where it counts,” Q defended himself. “And are you implying that I am some sort of a treasure that makes things around it worth their weight in gold?”

 

James froze mid-folding, suddenly remembering the boy from his dreams – well, repressed or lost memories, according to the nosy MI6 psychiatrist. “Did we know each other?” James asked and Q dropped what he was holding and rushed to his side, helping him sit down on the bed.

 

“Do you know who you are?” He asked lowly and loud, pulling out a flashlight from between the mountain of clothes and forcing his eyes open to shine it in them. “Can you understand me? Do you know—?”

 

“I meant in the past,” James cleared it up, grabbing the torch from Q and flicking his nose. “I suddenly have the distinct feeling that I knew the miniature version of you.”

 

Q rolled his eyes, lying on his back in the bed. “Don’t scare me like that, Bond. I thought your age and wounds finally caught up to you.”

 

James leaned over him, brushing the hair out of the eyes he was sure followed him in almost all of his dreams. “How much older am I compared to you? What is your real name? Where did you live prior to London?”

 

Q covered his mouth, looking nervous. “Why all the sudden questions, Bond? Just how bad was your nightmare the other day?” James looked at him surprised and Q smiled sadly, lightly pushing him away. “A door is thin on both ways, Bond. Just like my morning grumbles wake you up, so do your more violent dreams and nightmares wake me.”

 

“It’s best for you to keep your distance when I have those, Q,” James breathed out, feeling dizzy and like his head was about to explode. “I cannot vouch that I’ll have enough control over myself not to confuse you for an enemy and—”

 

“You calm down the instant I touch you,” Q interrupted him, giving him a glass of water before starting to arrange his clothes in his luggage. “You glare at me for a moment, realize that I am no danger and then either confuse my lap for your pillow for about five minutes or think that I am your blanket and try to cover yourself with me.

 

James frowned, feeling a bit ashamed that he showed a weakness to someone who was supposed to feel nothing but safety when he was around him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Q stopped from his half-assed folding to shrug. “You don’t seem to remember doing that the next day and I saw no reason to worry you with this. And before you mention your missions, you never share your bed for the entirety of the night, as proven by the fact that you contact us after every one of your heated meetings just to spite whoever betted that you’d end up missing a very special kind of ball or a finger that’s not quite a finger.”

 

Something underneath the clothes James eye and he moved faster than Q, fishing out a Paddington bear that was missing his hat. “Q, be honest: have we met before?” It had to be the bear from his dream, he was sure of it. After all, how many Paddington bears could be missing their… Okay, so maybe many, but the stars had to have had aligned in a very special way for James to meet two people in his lifetime that had this type of bear without a hat.

 

“M said…” Q started and then trailed off, sucking on his lower lip. “Digging in your past has never made you happy, Bond. Can’t we just focus on the now and the future?”

 

“My stepbrother turned out to be the criminal his family and myself always thought him to be, but I am sure that you will be the rare happy and pleasant connection to my past that’s still breathing.” He lay by Q’s side, putting the teddy bear between them, and entwining their fingers. “Are you the treasure I keep losing in my dream?”

 

Q snorted, but squeezed James’ hand. “You are quite soft for a double oh agent and sometimes, when you talk, I can’t help but think that you’d be better off as a cheesy romance novelist.” He squeezed James’ tighter when he felt the man start to pull away. “Yes, I am your treasure, Bambi.”

 

James grinned and dragged Q to his chest, rolling on his back so he could give him a proper hug. “I am very happy to hear that, even though I do not remember anything.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting Q’s scent wash over him. “I don’t know why I called you a treasure back then—”

 

“I did the work your tutors gave you despite being five years younger than you and because you found me roaming on your parents’ estate, you decided to call me **_your_** ‘treasure of letters and numbers and all complicated things’,” Q explained in a muffled voice. “Bond, you’re wounded, remember?”

 

It made sense now why Q had been so quick to assist him that first mission and why he went out of his way to cover for him when missions got out of hand and required an even more covert approach to them. So, having taken all of that into consideration, James felt that being addressed by his family name simply wouldn’t do.

 

“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to call me James by now?” He asked and moved Q in such a way that his head was still rested against his chest, but not directly over the wounds that had been healing quite nicely since someone was cleaning them and rubbing the right ointments on them.

 

“I think I shall start calling you Bambi again,” Q teased.

 

“Why?” James asked honestly, confused. “I understand yours and I would have been ashamed of myself if I called you anything else, but why am I ‘Bambi’?”

 

“You were the son of the lord that had a stag for a family emblem.” A simple reasoning that James silently agreed fitted him, perhaps way better than both of them would like to think about. “And I missed my overzealous Bam—” 

 

James pulled him up a little and pushed their lips together, freezing like that, his eyes staring directly into Q’s. He had made his move, something he would have done even if it turned out that the bear was just a coincidence, but now it was up to Q to decide the outcome. Had James misread things and Q was simply friendly with him because of their shared past that he didn’t remember and he had just driven a ledge between them? Or had he been write and Q would return the kiss with eagerness?

 

The answer came with Q slowly pulling away and carefully rolling off of him. “Don’t get it wrong,” his treasure breathed out, touching his lips with his fingers. “I had a crush on you since you climbed up in the tree to give me the bear that I had thrown at your head, but that’s just it. I don’t _lust_ for you, Bambi; it would hurt too much if I were nothing but a passing interest for you.”

 

Carefully, as if he was dealing with cracked crystal, James cupped Q’s face and pecked his lips and then his nose, resting his forehead against his. “Darling treasure, you are not a blip in the night, I assure you.”

 

Q closed his eyes and they kissed, sweet lips eagerly parting to grant James access to his mouth.

 

***

 

Mallory covered his eyes and groaned, turning away from the scene before him. “If this is your way of asking for time off, you are one article of clothing away from getting suspended.”

 

There had been many rumours about the two after they had returned from an apparently shared downtime one year ago, rumours which Mallory had no doubt that they have been started by Q’s security detail given how exact they seemed to be – 007 pushed the shopping cart and acted insulted when the Quartermaster suggested instant soup; the Quartermaster buckled 007’s safety belt before allowing the car to start and so on and so forth.

 

But Mallory did his best to ignore those rumours, even if he caught glimpses of the two having a relationship in dark corners – a stolen kiss while presenting Q with a cup of tea when he was working into the night, a lingering touch when 007 was being suited up for a mission, a whispered promise just out of his hearing range, the agent not using sex to make the mission end faster, the agent refusing to go on honeypot missions altogether – as it was not his place to officially acknowledge a relationship between his employees unless he either caught the in an indecent position and attire – office parties tended to be ignored – or the happy couple came to him.

 

Yes, he also noticed the obvious love bites Q constantly had on his neck and he knew that 007 had taken to spending an awful lot of his downtime in Q’s branch and _all_ of their official vacations were synced, but he chose to see those as mere coincidences and nothing else, no matter much Miss Moneypenny insisted otherwise.

 

Truthfully, he thought it wouldn’t last. Bond was just too much of a Casanova in his opinion to settle down and Q was much too himself to truly fall for such a troublemaker. Obviously, he had been very, very wrong. And he was happy about that, especially since he shared Olivia’s secret fondness for the two yet it didn’t do good to an active M to let one such as 007 break rules without as much as a slap on the wrist.

 

“I am sure that you are unaware of our rules, 007, but I expected a lot more from you, Quartermaster,” he started his scolding when he heard Q’s shy cough that signalled they were proper once more. “And in my office? After the meeting was called by you?”

 

“We got lost in the moment because it’s been a week since we saw each other,” Q stammered, the normally collected man as red as the tie he had on. “James and I… That is, 007 and myself…” he trailed off and moved his hand just a little, the agent instantly grabbing it and squeezing it. “We’d like to fill in the paperwork.”

 

Mallory almost took a step back, expecting James to burst into flames at the mention of that, but James just grinned at him and took out a pen – which he really hoped wasn’t the exploding kind. “And to make sure that we get the kind of papers that ensures that all of our future fees starting from next month will be done to our last names tied together with a hyphen.”

 

“Well, that sort of a change needs to be—” Wait; he must have heard things wrongly. “Could you repeat yourself?”

 

The two shared a look and a smile. “The Quartermaster and myself are going on a bit of an extended vacation in one week with the purpose of getting married and enjoying our honeymoon.”

 

Mallory blinked. He was hearing what Bond was saying and it was put in a simple form that had logic and could be followed even by a deaf man and yet, when he tried to process the words, they didn’t make sense. “The Quartermaster and _you_ are going on a vacation together, officially because you want to officialise a relationship that isn’t official yet?”

 

James started to laugh and Q clicked his tongue, hitting the side of his apparently future husband lightly. “But, treasure, his reaction is funnier than Tanner’s, especially since he’s not trying to strangle me while asking his wife to bring him his gun!”

 

“Why must I constantly tell you not to antagonize people who have control over certain aspects of our life?” Q lovingly scolded him and Mallory slowly sat down in his chair, pouring himself a glass of liquor. “It’s thanks to your sharp tongue and horrible jokes that you have three cracked ribs and why we almost had to wait three years to do this.”

 

He never thought people could really forget the world around them, especially if one of those people was a double oh agent and yet he was now looking at 007 who had eyes only fir Q as he lovingly caressed his face. “Yes, but it was thanks to your magical fingers that we got the licence so fast.” He took his hand and started placing a kiss on each finger, the mild annoyance in Q’s eyes melting away.

 

“I shan’t forgive you as easily as now the next time you do this,” Q warned, but Mallory felt as that it was an empty threat and nothing else. He looked too much in love to be upset with the agent for more than a few moments and James looked like he knew how to pacify him and get back on his good side.

 

“Then we should find a way to keep my sharp tongue busy, right?” James muttered against Q’s lips and there went their hands around each other and buttons were sure to become unbuttoned again.

 

He cleared his throat once and then again and then started to fake a coughing fit to get their attention and failed miserably. “007, Quartermaster!” He exclaimed when he heard one of them let out a moan. “Congratulations and every wish of good health and happy life that comes after such a joyful announcement, but could you please take your show of affection out of my office and preferably do not show it anywhere in this building?”

 

They were gone in a blink of an eye, wrapped around each other and all he could think was that it was a pity he couldn’t go on vacation as soon as he approved of their request and forwarded it to HR because he got a headache just thinking about the hell that would break lose the second everyone found out about their marriage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they also asked for marriage. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love <3


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